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kqote · 2 months ago

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JAMES POTTER | HOW TO DRESS (SHORT VER.)

LENGTH : 5.6k

SUM. : when you pull away from James, he does his best to convince you to stay ; smut version only

CONTENT WARNING : dubcon/cnc ; resisting ; dirty talk ; creampies ; overstimulation ; oral/cunniglingus (female receiving) ; body worship ; praise kink ; multiple orgasms ; mirror sex ; soft james turned dark james ; pregnation/breeding kink ; dom!james ; sub!reader ; unprotected sex ; slight cockwarming

FULL VER.

You wake up with a start to see the room drenched in a warm glow, the sight immediately making you stand from the sofa you had fallen asleep on. You didn’t light the fireplace last night… you were too exhausted to. It was thanks to the heat of the fire that you no longer needed to be bundled up in the blanket despite only wearing a white button-up and your panties. At the very least, your arms were free to move about without restrictions if you needed to fight back an intruder.

“Love,” a familiar, warm voice calls in a whisper beside you.

“James!” you gasp in shock when you see him standing before you, coming out of the bedroom shirtless with one of the spare shirts from the wardrobe in his hand and wet hair. Did he try finding you in the storm? The thought warmed your heart but your firm decision to leave him frosted over all warmth, leaving your chest hollow. Just as quickly as James saw your beautiful smile pull at your lips, your expression was disciplined into something cold and neutral.

“I’m so glad you’re safe—” he tries to approach you with open arms and a relieved smile but you back away quickly, your hands pushed out as if to push him away.

“No!”

“...No?”

“You shouldn’t be here, James. You shouldn’t have come looking for me!”

“And why not?” a familiar feeling comes creeping into James’ anxiously beating heart. He knows this suffocating atmosphere, he knows it too well. But that was only around Lily… never you. He loves you to the ends of the earth and he knows you love him just as much in return. Is that why the realisation hurts him more than it has ever hurt him with Lily?

“It’s not safe out in the storm–”

“I had to look for you! I was so scared that you were in some kind of danger and needed help!”

“WeShouldn’tBeTogetherAnymore!” you don’t meet his eyes despite shouting with such conviction. You don’t think you could have said it any other way. Blurting out the words frantically was easier than saying every syllable clearly.

James doesn’t know what to say. At that moment, it hurt too much to look at him so you don’t see the way his face grew cold and his eyes became consumed by a darkness that wasn’t characteristic of him, “Your mother’s right… we don’t belong together.”

The world spirals around James. This can’t be happening. You weren’t Lily. You can’t break his heart like this – you aren’t the type. You promised to be his forever and he promised to forever be with you— was there someone else? This can’t just be because of his mother! You’re his perfect match, there’s no way you would deny that, you always said you love him back. This is all a lie. James isn’t going to accept this!

“You don’t mean that, love,” James coos gently, not wanting to believe your words himself and approaches steadily like a crawling predator waiting to strike.

“Y-yes I do!” You see his slow approach and try to maintain the distance between you but you can only move back so far before you’re pressed up against the wall. Seeing the opportunity, James raises arms and presses his palms on the wall beside your head, trapping you in place. Despite the proximity, you don’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t belong together…you deserve someone better. I can’t be with you anymore, we’re not a good match,” you sniffle and James resists the urge to kiss your tears away. Beside your head, his hands clench into fists against the wooden walls.

“Say it to my face then, look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me anymore — that you don’t want me anymore,”

“James…” You muster up the courage but your voice still comes out, somewhat, shaky, “I-I don’t want to be with you anymore,” his expression remains steely and cold, the fierce glint of resolve in his eyes, unrelenting, “I don’t love you anymore…”

“I don’t, at least, make you feel good?”

“No.”

He doesn’t respond, instead, he keeps you pressed against the wall and manoeuvres his face to rest beside your ear, his husky voice weakening your knees “Are you sure about that?” he snakes his hands around your waist to press his fingers into your lower back. Under his touch, you suppress a whimper of relief as his massaging motions ease some strain in your back.

“James, stop it,” you huff, trying to push him away but you barely find the strength in yourself to shove him off with force. The love you have for him still lingers inside you, burrowed deep in your heart with no intent of leaving despite your earlier resolution.

“No,” his fingers continue to massage your lower back as his lips begin to press a trail of kisses down your neck, “I don’t believe you,” he insists, “I can see it in your eyes,” he bares his teeth against the junction of your neck and shoulder, and draws a squeal from your parted lips, “You love me! You never stopped! And I’m the only one who can make you feel good!”

“No!”

“‘No’, you never stopped? ‘No’ no one makes you feel as good as me?” you can feel his naked chest pressing down against yours through the thin button-up, vibrating as he chuckles darkly. His hands start roaming your body, teasingly brushing against the sides of your breasts and tracing the curves of your silhouette. He loves your body. You’re the most beautiful woman he has ever had the honour of touching and kissing — his treasure.

“Nooo!” you whine once more, not giving him a straight answer and succumbing to his familiar, fondling hands. He loves that you’re wearing his old shirt; not only do you look delectable in it but a surge of possessiveness washes over him at how small you appear. And the fact that you were allowing him to fondle you with your soft skin, pouty lips and pretty, tearful eyes, turns him on so much.

Everything about you was a turn-on for him. James doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard before, it was almost painful still being in the confines of his trousers. But he wouldn’t dare waste time on frivolous things like that, hearing your soft, gasps and delicate moans spur him on to continue pulling moan after moan from your sweet lips. Lips that he had been neglecting to kiss and immediately moved up to capture in a heated tango.

Time blurs along with the scene around you, all your mind can seem to comprehend is James’ weight pressing your back against the wall as his caressing hands map a dangerous path along your skin, getting closer and closer to your intimate areas — your nipples were already hard as rocks, attempting to poke through his thin button up as your panties were practically soaked through by your arousal.

Your resolve to keep your distance and do what was best for him was close to gone, wiped from all areas of your mind so that the only thing left was a growing want for pleasure. A pleasure that only James could give. Mind numb, you had no strength to do anything except whimper and moan against his broad shoulder until he suddenly cups your right breast and uses his pointer finger to play with your hardened nipple through the fabric.

“J-James!” you gasp, pulling away from his lips and ignoring the string of saliva connecting your lips to press against his shoulder with your shaking palms. Your resolve returns and the tug of war between your desires and reluctant refusal of his touch continues, “Ahhhh~ stop it~” he doesn’t stop, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, “please…” you beg pathetically, the tone of your voice unclear. His hands, his lips and his touch were making you feel hot, and the beginning of a tight knot was forming in the depths of your lower abdomen — it was becoming harder and harder to resist him.

While you’re distracted by the hand he has fondling your breast, James creeps his other hand up your inner thigh and edges your panties aside with a finger. He can see the realisation in your eyes when his finger brushes shyly against your clit. But he gives you no time to react and plunges his two fingers into your heat without warning. It was an easy entrance because you were so wet and hot and eager. And as James groans at the thought of his cock replacing his fingers inside you, his feverish probing against your inner walls shatters the last remaining strength in your knees.

Your upper teeth bite down on your bottom lip, trapping the moans in your throat and keeping them from spilling. However, just as James pushes his fingers inside you, he’s pulling them out again. Soaked all the way down to his knuckles. He raises his two fingers to his lips and sucks them clean of your juices with a resounding groan as if he’s sampled the most flavourful dish he’s ever had.

“Your mouth likes to lie, it’s great at lying apparently,” he snarls, the accusation and harsh tone making you whimper and your heart sinks from guilt. As always, he can see right through you. You don’t really want to leave James, he’s been the perfect boyfriend and you want to be with him forever… “so I’ll only trust what your pretty pussy lips have to say instead…” he licks his lips and stares into your eyes darkly, but rather than feel fear at his unusually impious stare, an arousing thrill flourishes in your stomach and raises the goosebumps on your upper arms, “it doesn’t taste like you don’t love me anymore,” a devilish grin stretches across his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, “you taste like you finally want me to love you all the way,”

“No, I don’t,” your retaliating statement comes too firmly and too quickly for James to not heat up in anger. Where had your previous meekness and slow build-up to acceptance gone? It can’t just vanish; it’s still there…somewhere, he just needs to coax it out of you again!

With a rumbling growl from the back of his throat, he lifts you to hang off his shoulder without any care and takes a handful of long strides to his designated bedroom at the small cabin. He kneels down before throwing you onto the bed so that you fall back with just enough force and care to know that, despite his anger, he still loves you deeply.

The strength behind his action leaves you shocked and vulnerable for a few moments but that’s all James needs. Gripping your thighs, he hoists your lower half up and rests the back of your upper thighs on his shoulders so he could devour your pussy shamelessly.

Crying aloud, you arch your back and thrash against him. Your hands grip his soft, untamed curls and delude yourself into believing that you are actively resisting him, trying to push away his head from in between your thighs. However, in the position James has—lifted high with your abdomen pressed down by a hand and securing your lower back against his chest—it’s too difficult for you to push him away. You’re at his complete mercy. He kneels on the bed with his chin tucked into his collar, plunging his tongue in and out of your pussy, his nose stimulating your clit as he laps up as much of your juices as he possibly could. Beneath him, you’re floundering, half lifted into the air with only your shoulders, head and neck still on the bed.

“James! Ahhhh!” You squeal in pleasure when he raises a hand to finger at your clit as his chin tilts up and his tongue curls deliciously inside you. He’s driving you closer and closer to the edge!

Your once sweet James was gone. His loving and goofy self was lost to the lust-hungry man with his head buried between your thighs. He’s determined to unravel you at the seams with only the methodical writhing of his tongue and the stimulation of your sensitive clit.

And, unravel, you did.

It was a searing white, hot and euphoric, sensation. Your erotic scream upon release was never registered by your ears as you were too consumed by rolling waves of ecstasy. The storm outside no longer existed. The rest of the world had disappeared too. It was only you and James and the bed.

You don’t know how long it took you to finally catch your breath and focus your vision but when you did, James had pulled off your panties completely and was leaning over you, trying to hurriedly unbutton your– his shirt, desperate to see more of your skin. Without your panties, you’re naked underneath it and he needed to see you with nothing on.

Quickly becoming impatient, James grips at the two halves of his button-up and savagely rips them apart as you gasp at the brute force he’s capable of exerting. But the instant his eyes fall upon your naked skin, his brutishness disappears entirely. His hazel eyes visibly soften and his fingers shyly drift over the skin of your stomach, delicate and caring, as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you. The loving, sweet James you knew was back. Though you were also getting quickly accustomed to his more savage side.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispers in awe and a surge of love tumbles over you, spurred by the admiration and worship in his pretty hazel eyes. The man before you was still your sweet and loving James, charming, kind and oh so loveable. It made tears fill your eyes. How did the two of you end up like this? With you refusing his love when you know that, deep down, that was all you ever wanted… forget your entrepreneurial dreams, James was it for you as much as you know you’re it for him.

James didn’t allow you to contemplate your situation for very long as he was swiftly trailing delicate kisses up your torso and to your breasts. He eagerly sucks on your nipple, his hands placing themselves on your hips, pressing down – an anchor – and caressing your soft skin with his thumb. His tongue and teeth on your nipple pull endless streams of delicate whimpers and airy sighs from your lips, and he relishes every single one.

You can see it in his hazel eyes, how much he adores it when your whimpers tremble and when your sighs raise a little higher in pitch. It compels you to keep vocalising your pleasure despite your mind arguing against you. You need to be stronger than this, you needed to resist him…he deserved better than you, he deserves greater happiness and he couldn’t have that if you were the one selfishly standing by his side, there’s a better match for him out there– but ohh~ he makes you feel sooo goood…

Finally, he pulls away. You watch a strand of saliva connecting your nipple to his tongue slowly stretch and break off when he towers over your frame. His knees lock you in where he straddles your plush thighs and his back elongates to stretch his domineering figure taller, accentuating the ridges and lines of his toned abdomen.

“You love me,” his voice is firm, trying to sway your decision and reel you back to him.

“N-no…” You shake your head and your voice trembles with the lie. Your attempt to continue denying the obvious was pitiful and disappointing to the man before you. He clicks his tongue at your stubborn resistance but his gaze immediately softens at the sight of tears collecting at your waterline. With eyes like glass, the windows to your soul, James is reminded of why you were being so stubborn in the first place.

It’s because he’s right. You do love him…and it’s because you love him that you will continue to resist. But it’s because you love him that he will continue to resist also.

“I love you…” His soft gaze and loving words strip away all your defences. Your forged hatred and rejection disappear into nothing.

You don’t say anything. You can’t because how could you? After everything. After all your stupid decisions and flagrant exploitation of his trust, how could you ever return those same beautiful and affectionate words? Even if you mean every single one? You’re the selfish one here! His mother is right about him deserving better! Why can’t he see that?!

To avoid his stare, you turn your face away and cover your eyes with your arm. Silence fills the room, and there’s a pause in all activity. All you want to do is escape the situation, denying ever being in such circumstances by rendering yourself incapable of seeing anything but darkness – the shadow of your arm, your only shield against James’s persistent call for you to return to him, to admit loving him back.

The silence lingers and is eventually broken by the sound of a belt being unbuckled followed by the shifting of fabric and a heart-thundering zzzzzzzzip….

Unveiling your eyes, you’re left speechless and blinking in shock at the sight of James taking off his pants and briefs. Unaffected by your frantic scramble, he stares down at you wordlessly.

“James!…” he doesn’t answer your call.

You gasp, beginning to crawl backwards when he leans over you with his hard and angry erection in full view. In your peripheral, his length twitches and when you bend your knee to plant your feet on the bed and propel yourself backwards, your thigh comes so close to his hardness that you can feel the burning heat radiating from its stiff length.

“I’m going to show you how much I love you,” he finally says, “I’m going to fill you up over and over again, and I’m not going to stop until I know that you finally understand how much you mean to me,” he grabs your ankle and yanks you back down to him, your ass almost slipping off the edge of the bed, “understand how much I love you,” he trails a feathery touch up your thigh as he pushes them apart, “understand how I can’t live without you anymore and how desperately I want a future with you…”

He raises your right leg and rests your heel against his shoulder, turning his face to kiss your ankle sweetly. His other hand grips your other thigh and anchors it to his waist, prompting your leg to wrap around him. “You’ll let me do it, won’t you?” He meets your eyes, “I know you love me, after all… isn’t that right?”

“...no….” You protest one last time but it’s so quiet, so demure and so lacking in strength that James searches your eyes for the real answer. As much as you know you have to resist him and deny his advances for his own betterment, you silently plead for his love. Your tearful eyes beg him to do whatever he wants and to give you his everything. You want him to love you all the way, like he always said he would despite his reluctance to love wholly once more after Lily Evans. What rotten timing. The time he’s finally willing to become yours and vice versa officially, his overprotective mother scares you away.

“Speak up, love,” he urges despite knowing everything he needs to know only through the look in your eyes. You feel him lube up the head of his cock with your juices, letting out a shaky breath as he does so before finally lining himself up with your entrance.

“No,” You voice a little louder.

“No?” He bucks against your entrance with a hiss and you bite back a moan.

“N-no…” he laughs at your pathetic whimper, the sound of which makes your lower belly clench around nothing. It was so sadistic and demeaning —you didn’t know that he could ever be like this, let alone make you feel this way.

“Then—!” You both gasp when the swollen head of his cock breaks through your tight entrance, “then I’ll just—“ he continues to push forward, enjoying the view of your trembling form under him. He almost coos at how your small hands shakily grip the sheets, “—take you,” he exhales slowly after successfully burying himself inside you, he leans down to whisper inches away from your face, “I’ll just take you as I please,”

The brutal pace he sets from the start unhinges your jaw to let out a silent scream of pleasure. He had eaten you out so well that there was no pain, just a lingering ache after every punishing thrust, which only added to the pleasure. His rhythm steals your breath but doesn’t stop you from moaning erotically with your head thrown back in pleasure.

“Oh, James! Ahhh!” You sob and stare up at him pleadingly, not knowing exactly what you were begging for anymore, “J-Jamie~…!” Above you, James groans at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue — only you could make his name sound oh so sweet~

“That’s it, love,” he smiles down wickedly, “that’s a good girl~” your back arches at his praise, which pushes your hips against him and catches the head of his cock against your walls at a different angle, pulling a squeal from your bitten lips.

“Oh~” he coos, leaning forward to grip your hips as he lets go of your legs, “you like that spot, do you?” He holds your hips in place, marking the angle that gave you the most pleasure and proceeds to abuse your weakness viciously, his punishing thrusts unrelenting.

“O-ohh God! Ahhh!”

“You don’t love me?” He challenges in between pants, groaning as your velvet walls throb and flutter around his stiff length, “LIES!” He snaps, suddenly pulling out of you so he could flip you over and take you from behind, “You’re a fucking liar!”

Your front half collapses from the pleasure and James is left to hold your hips up himself, “I-I’m not,” you sob into the sheets, the tears in your eyes spilling past your waterline and getting soaked up by the soft linen.

“Then WHY are you so WET, love?” He growls into your hair, having leant over to press his torso against your arched back and bury his face into the back of your head, his mouth angled to your ear so that his breath tickles your skin at every word. Both of you groan in unison as the position makes him reach impossibly deep inside you, “WHY do you keep clenching around me like — oh fuck— like you want to drain my balls dry?”

“Ahhh! James!” he speeds up suddenly and you can barely keep up with your breathing.

“And WHY are you pushing your hips back for me? Hm? You want me in deep, do you?” your gasp of realisation is disguised by your surprised squeal when his large hand comes down harshly to hit your ass.

“Th-that’s not—“Despite your verbal protest, you don’t stop moving your hips in tandem with his own. You can’t help it. He feels too good! So big and thick and he’s hitting all the right places…!

“I’ll give you what you want,” he picks up the pace and bites your shoulder, quickly kissing and licking the stinging mark he leaves behind, “I’ll fill you up, love,” you don’t protest, instead, you moan louder and encourage him to push you closer and closer to the edge, “I’ll fill up your fertile, greedy little belly good— Aah! Okay?”

You don’t answer him as pleasure takes over your mind and all you can do is moan. James also succumbs to the pleasure, sweat on his furrowed brow and tension building in his muscles as he quickly approaches his euphoric end.

But no — he won’t allow himself that until you are fully satisfied. He’ll bring you to your release over and over again before he even thinks about stopping.

With a scream, your vision turns white and your body stiffens up. James cries with pleasure, almost sobbing at the heavenly convulsions of your tight walls around him. As you slowly go limp beneath him, he finally succumbs to his own pleasure, satisfied that had reached your peak already. With a loud, shuddering moan, James pumps you full of his pent-up cum but he doesn’t stop thrusting. His movements are significantly more sluggish but he’s determined to push his white, thick release as deep as it can go.

“You’re so beautiful…” he doesn’t pull out, “my beautiful girl, all mine,” you feel his large hand gently press against the soft skin of your belly and you hear the smile in his voice when he realises– “you’re full of me now. You took me so well, baby,” he coos beside your ear, his hot breath sending a shudder down your spine.

Tilting you both over to lay on your side, he presses into you from behind and cuddles you close. The two of you lay there catching your breaths with James still buried inside you, determined not to pull out and spill all signs of your union.

“...James?” you ask quietly after finally managing to catch your breath.

“Yes, love?” he purrs lowly, kissing behind your ear as he pulls you impossibly close. The affection makes your heart flutter lightly. It’s impossible to deny him like this. Why did he have to make you feel so good? Why did he have to make you feel so loved?

“Please just… think about it?” He tenses up and you hold your breath in preparation for what may come.

“Think about what?...” his hands begin to wander at your front, his delicate touch tracing an unbroken path over your soft skin, “About how much I love you? How much I dream of our future together?”

His words make you tear up, “No, not that—”

“Then, about how beautiful you are? Because you’re very beautiful, my love,” still inside you, James’ fat cock begins to rise again, erect and throbbing for friction, lots of friction.

“J-James–! Ahh! Wait!”

“And I don’t think you realise how beautiful you are, pet~” he coos almost demeaningly, ignoring your squirming, “it’s about time I show you just how beautiful you really are, and how beautifully you take my cock.” your breath stills at the implication, making James smirk into your hair, “Ready for round two?”

Yelping pathetically, James lifts you like a ragdoll and shuffles you both into the bathroom. He had to pull out for the manoeuvre and thick globes of his release poke at the ring of muscle at your entrance. The sensation makes you whimper and clench around nothing, making his hot cum slip out and begin crawling down your inner thigh. Inside the bathroom, James leans you over the sink and carefully parts your hair to kiss the slope of your shoulder before his large hands grab the globes of your ass to pry them apart delicately.

The sight of his thick cum oozing out of your pussy and leaking down your inner thigh pulls a guttural groan from the depths of James’ chest. “You’re so fucking sexy baby,” he praises and smirks at the whimper his comment pulls from your pretty lips, “but what a waste of my cum.” He positions himself behind you, feet shoulder-width apart, and presses his mushroom tip against your wet opening. You’ve become so sensitive that the simple touch makes you squirm but his strong hold on your hips keeps you still. Without warning, he pushes inside so violently, you cry out and fall forward. You would have hit your head if your hands hadn’t come up to brace you against the large wall mirror above the sink.

“Letting my cum drip out of you like that means I need to fill you up again, lovie,” he coos sweetly as if he wasn’t railing you from behind and pushing more of his thick cum out of you. He’s using his spilt seed as lubrication for your second round. “What a devious little minx you are,” James rests his chin against your bare shoulder, his bent-over form hitting a new angle and making you wail in pleasure, “I bet you pushed it out on purpose so I would pump you full again.” He kisses your cheek and you have to face down so you didn’t have to watch yourself getting savagely fucked by the devilish beast who’d possessed your loving boyfriend’s (ex? – that broke your heart) chiselled body. If you continued watching the erotic scene, you would cum too quickly and… you didn’t want that…

“Look at yourself!” James demands and pushes your chin up from underneath, forcing you to watch yourself get fucked.

Eyes wide, you try to look away but he holds your chin in place, “N-no! James!”

“Why not?” he pants heavily, pleasure evident on his beautiful face. You can tell that he was savouring the feeling of you with the way every odd twitch of his brow perfectly corresponded to the sporadic tightening of your walls, “you look so beautiful, my love, see?” he meets your eyes in the mirror, “you’re an angel, an angel who’s perfectly made for me. And I, you,” his poetry weakens your resolve more and more, “Don’t you see how beautiful we look together? We’re the perfect match, baby.” your moans and pants fog up the mirror, unable to say anything back as you’re too lost in the pleasure. James takes his hand away from your chin and focuses on aiming every powerful thrust perfectly so that you feel every tingle of pleasure spike up your spine. Maybe it’ll be able to convince you to stay with him despite his mother’s unwarranted comments.

Feeling yourself tear up at your lover’s words and the sight of your pairing, you turn to the side, only to gasp at the new sight. The glass barrier of the shower provides you with the faintest reflection of your full-body lovemaking with James. His toned body and perfectly carved muscles make him look like a god and he was fucking you as if he had never felt pleasure like this before. His powerful thrusts make your ass bounce rhythmically and his down-turned face makes it obvious how transfixed he is with the movement, urging him to continue despite the ache in his legs and hips.

Seeing the two of you joined together like this and fully lost in the throes of passion stirs something in your lower belly. It’s familiar and aching and hot and—

Throwing your head back, you scream in pleasure and reach your high once again. Your legs are shaking and your hands try to grip the surface of the mirror in an attempt to steady the convulsions of your upper body. Behind you, James gives a few more powerful thrusts before spilling his hot cum inside you again. With the way your walls pulse and throb around him, your uterus wanted to swallow every bit of his cum and make a baby. And with how viscous his release is, there’s a high chance you’ve become pregnant.

Your legs are weak but James keeps you up with steady hands and a secure frame. Again, despite already reaching his high, James doesn’t stop thrusting into you until you’re whimpering from overstimulation. Finally coming to a full stop, James lets out something between a sob and a groan, burrowing his face into your shoulder, “Don’t leave me— please don’t leave me… I love you,” where his lashes press against your skin, a wetness pools and you’re alerted to his tears.

You take a shuddering breath and reach up a hand to comb through your lover’s untamed curls. “I’ll stay Jamie…” James almost snaps his neck in half looking up, his wide, hopeful eyes connecting with yours in the mirror.

“You..?”

“I’ll stay,” you repeat gently but firmly, smiling at him.

“Really?”

“Yes really,” you giggle at his visage; he looks like a kid on Christmas day. “At this rate, I don’t really have a choice,” you begin teasingly as his brows furrow in wonder, “after all of that, I might as well be pregnant right now,”

Your joke isn’t met with a humorous chuckle like you expect, instead, there’s a stirring inside you. Gasping softly, you turn your head and meet James’ dark stare with wide-eyed shock, “Jamie! It’s t-too soon—” he captures your lips fiercely and begins ramming into you for the third time – in a matter of seconds, he had become rock hard again. However, in the state that you were in, sensitive from overstimulation, there isn’t a chance of you lasting longer than a minute. “A-ahhhh! James!”

“Fuck! I love you so much~” James moans deeply, a string of saliva connecting your lips as he pulls back from the heated kiss, “you drive me fucking crazy,” you try holding on for as long as you can but James slapping your ass only to grip possessively at the flesh was all it took to make you cum again. The high makes you tear up, becoming a pitiful, whimpering mess beneath your tenacious lover.

“I want to make sure you’re really pregnant by the end of tonight,” James comments as he presses a kiss into the back of your head. “We can keep going until sunrise, can’t we, love?”

There’s only one true answer to that, “yes~”

NAVI. | FULL VER.

A/N : this is the short version of my first-ever smut fic. this version only contains the main nsfw scene of the oneshot. i hope you darlings enjoy the read! if you're interested, feel free to read the full version too!

#mdni #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter smut #james potter x you #james fleamont potter #james potter fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson x reader #mature #james potter oneshot

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vorfreudevortex · 2 months ago

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redline | introductions

a street racer!ino takuma x f!reader fic

redline masterlist // next: chapter 1

✰ reader ✰

you could barely remember when your parents split, but you could recall your older brother suguru bawling his little eyes out when the lengthy custody battle resulted in him staying in tokyo with your father while you were to be shipped off to america with your mother. but throughout the years, you two stayed close. during breaks and holidays, suguru would come stay with you and your mother in america, and you in tokyo with him and your father.

you always understood why your parents split. he was a quiet man, and often covered in grease, but he was kind to everyone and always happy when you visited. and, you were always happy to help him in the busy mechanic shop he lived above. meanwhile, it seemed your sophisticated and stoic mother could only show kindness to you and the long hours she spent at work.

suguru and his best friend satoru had taught you how to drive one summer in tokyo. you could barely contain your excitement, until you ruined the clutch in your dad’s car and earned you the double-sided nickname, “clutch”. that same summer, the two had brought you to a meetup in an underground parking garage, where glittering growls of car engines grabbed your heart and hadn’t let go since.

college life has been busy and it’s been 2 years since you could visit your family. so when you finally got a free summer to return to japan, you demanded your mom to ship your new car with you. you didn’t tell her you might not come back if you decided to finish your college years in japan. luckily, she relented after weeks of pleading, and suguru and satoru were more than happy to pick you up from the airport in your shelby gt500 that had been shipped in just a few days prior.

your theme song? slay! - eternxlkz

✰ suguru geto ✰

suguru geto has always been protective over his little sister. how could he not, when his first best friend and only sibling lives on the other side of the world? and he just knows those nasty fraternity boys at your american college must go feral over a sweet girl like you… with a nicer car than anyone on campus, faster than anyone there, and too kind for your own good. he’s already heard all about the races you’ve won over lengthy facetime calls in the early mornings and late nights, when time zones aligned.

him and his best friend satoru are known as some of the fastest street racers in tokyo, and the leaders of the phantoms. their favorite pastime of creeping up on drifters in the mountains with their headlights off, only to beat them in the complete dark, earned the group its ominous name. at first, the phantoms were only known by their cars, but the small group has grown quite a name for itself among female fans since they first showed their faces.

it’s only fitting that the leader of the phantoms drives a honda nsx.

his favorite song to listen to while racing is 9mm - memphis cult

✰ satoru gojo ✰

the mouthy satoru gojo has been friends with suguru for so long, he’s practically a part of the geto family. if suguru isn’t answering his phone, he’s next in line for your chaotic facetime calls. having no other siblings himself, he thinks of you as his own.

he spends a lot of time in the shop with your father, tinkering and tuning cars, but mostly sitting there watching your father and nanami do it while he plays on his phone. he says he’s “good with his hands”. nanami usually hits him in the chest after a line like that.

satoru's baby is his nissan 180sx type x.

his favorite song to blast is phonky trap - suave lee

✰ kento nanami ✰

the tuner and only sane member of the phantoms. he became close with suguru and satoru when your father hired him as a young teenager to help out in his shop. that’s also where he learned to be a modern master of modifications (and safety).

you’re not as close with kento, but he’s always been very kind to you. kento usually keeps to himself unless he’s reprimanding suguru and satoru for wrecking a transmission or burning through brakes too fast. he used to race himself, and was quite good at it, but has since decided to keep his nose under the hood of a car rather than behind the wheel after getting into a bad accident.

kento's retired racer is a nissan s13.

he claims doesn’t have a favorite racing song, but in the club - mishashi sensei always happens to be in his top 5.

✰ shoko ieiri ✰

you and shoko don’t know each other too well, but you think she’s so cool and she thinks you’re adorable. shoko knows the rest of the boys from school. she doesn’t drive, but likes to attend races and meetups. she’s usually the one to help supply the phantoms with race information, gossip, and cigarettes. she’s also not allowed more than 10 feet in the geto's shop after she almost blew the place up when trying to light a cigarette.

she loves when suguru and satoru play pink like suki - pebbles&tamtam for her.

✰ takuma ino ✰

as the leader of the shadows, takuma often feels overwhelmed. he didn’t really mean to start the newest, most threatening team of racers in tokyo. he just liked cars and made friends with a few random guys who did as well. it’s not his fault that they’re all naturally gifted with intuition and reflexes like you can’t imagine. the group seemed to jump out of the shadows and into the streetlights, which earned them the name.

suguru geto in particular did not like the thought of takuma. and by proximity, none of the phantoms did. no one was sure whether it was takuma's good looks, expensive car, or race rankings that posed a threat to suguru and his team the most, but it made for a spicy rivalry and thrilling race nights. somehow, the rest of the tokyo car scene gained a questionable perspective on the shadows that skewed their reputation. takuma just kind of plays along with his given “edgy” persona.

in reality, he’s extremely kind. kind enough to even teach megumi and choso how to drift and modify cars. he first started loving the car scene when he stumbled upon a meetup after sneaking out one night, and his passion was further solidified when his father gifted him a manual when he got his drivers license. in his free time, he’s usually found at the skate park or in his mom’s sushi restaurant.

ino's pride and joy is his nissan skyline gtr.

his go-to playlist almost always starts with killka - ghostface playa

✰ megumi fushiguro ✰

he’s the epitome of “shut up and drive”. you won’t hear much more than a grumble from his mouth, but you’ll know what he meant to say when he’s flying past the finish line at 120 mph, no less than 80 feet in front of you too. he’s an aggressive racer, which he learned from his dad, who was one of tokyo's fastest before his son was born and his wife made him quit.

the shadows’ second best drives a skyline r34 gtt.

an aggressive racer loves an aggressive song to race to… shut the fuck up - ghostface playa

✰ choso kamo ✰

choso is the shadow’s newest member after moving to the area and his cousin, noritoshi, decided he’d rather focus on school more than dying. choso is more of a motorcycle guy, but drives more often since the tokyo car scene is so exciting. he’s a great racer and is really quite nice once you get past his intimidating face tattoos. his younger cousin yuji is almost always in his passenger seat, if he’s not already in megumi's.

choso loves cruising in his nissan 180sx 4k.

he can’t get enough of 6ixspeed - 7oh2

✰ aoi todo ✰

aoi is the biggest himbo you’ll probably ever meet, but is secretly stacking a world of car knowledge in his pea-sized brain. he can race, but prefers flexing his muscles and head under the hood of a car. as the tuner for the shadows, he likes to make his groups’ cars as flashy as they are fast. he most likely never has a shirt on unless he’s at a meet and he has to.

his favorite song to blast is obviously kitty phonk - soviss

✰ yuji itadori ✰

he doesn’t race, but hangs around with the shadows anyways. he’s more into baseball, he’s got a scholarship for it at a nearby university, but is always at meets and races when he doesn’t have a game. he’s choso's cousin and megumi's best friend, and is always in one of their passenger seats bothering them. the shadows tried to teach him how to race, but after wrecking one of toji's cars into a tree and earning a scar on his face, he prefers only using his feet to run bases rather than stomping gas pedals.

he likes to pretend he’s in a tiktok edit and constantly asks choso and megumi to play masquerade - siouxxie sixxsta

✰ toji fushiguro ✰

toji knows your dad from way back, when they used to race each other in friendly competitions on the streets and mountains around tokyo. they became good friends over the years, and often laugh over what their kids are up to over some whiskey in one of their shops. he earned a scar on his lip after taking a turn too fast back in the day, which your dad had thankfully stopped and pulled him out of before the engine caught on fire.

toji's wife forced him to stop racing when megumi was born, but ended up in a years-long phase of drinking and smoking when she left them a few years later. that’s how he ended up with the 10-car garage and shop he has now- a shitfaced phone call during a 10 day bender after winning a million yen in a craps tournament at a nearby casino. he’s since calmed down. if he’s not down in his shop giving tips to the boys, he’s probably listening to megumi's older sister, tsumiki, complain on the phone about her college classes.

he has no idea what the hell those kids are listening to, but can’t help but bop his head along to rave - dark ダーク

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

redline masterlist // next: chapter 1

tag list // @stillnotherapy @rieamena

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

Text

Silver Lining 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Part of the Silverfox AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your mouth is dry and your ears are buzzing. You can’t breathe or move. You stare back at Mr. Rogers. Your former boss and eternal tormentor.

Your hands shake and you try to wipe your sweaty palms on your pants. How could he be there? What cruel fate has brought him there? What are the odds that he would know Bucky? Somehow, they don’t seem like a strange pair but at that moment, it’s not an amusing observation.

“Oh, who’s this? Am I interrupting?” Rogers asks coyly, looking from you to the host, “a date?”

Bucky sighs and crosses his arms. You should be heartened that his attitude isn’t solely reserved for you but all you want to do is disappear. You flutter your lashes as you wait for his response, unable to offer much yourself.

“Steve,” he huffs, “we’re working–”

“Working?” Rogers scoffs, “on…?” He narrows his eyes with a crooked smirk, “bit young for you–”

“U-u-uhhhh,” you choke out, chest burning, head swimming, “C-can– d-d-d-do y-you— have a b-ba-bathroom?”

Both men look at you. You sway as Bucky backs up and nods, pointing you past the staircase, “down the hall to your right, just behind the stairs.”

“Th-th-thanks,” you sidle by him, nearly flatting yourself as you keep a staunch distance from Rogers.

He faces his guest again, just as quickly forgetting about you. You can’t forget any of it. Your escape isn’t much of one. A couple minutes if that.

“Is that why you’re dodging me?” Rogers’ timbre follows you, “really not your type. I’m surprised.”

“Would you shut up?” Bucky growls.

You don’t linger to hear the rest of their conversation. You nearly trip into the bathroom and lean on the door to shut it. You feel around until you find the little button to lock it and back away. You clutch your head as panic overflows and reality strikes you. You hold back a scream.

You’re trapped in this house with him. This strange place. You should’ve never come here. You’re so stupid. Just like before, you walked straight into a bad situation. You’re letting it happen all over again.

They are all right. You asked for it. You’re stupid. You’re worthless. You’re weak.

You crumple onto the cold tile, against the door as you bend your head against your arms, hugging yourself as you bite back tears. You’re going to have to come out eventually and you won’t let him see you cry. Not again.

You try not to think about it. The same memories that haunted your day. Following you like ghosts, inescapable, no walls can keep them away. You feel pressure on your throat and close your eyes. You hear his growl as he squeezes your neck, his body pinning yours flat.

“N-n-n-n-n-n-no,” you murmur into your lap, “p-p-please…”

You rock, trying to soothe yourself, trying to calm the maelstrom of nerves threatening to overflow. You bring your hands up around your head. You lift one and bring it back against your skull, beating yourself as if you can knock the thoughts free.

There’s a gentle tap, three solid knocks on the other side of the door, “you okay in there?”

Bucky’s voice has you whipping your head up, turning your back flat to the door as you press your hands to the tile. You gulp down air, hiccuping in your panic attack, vibrating uncontrollably. You hum before you can summon your voice.

“Y-y-yesss,” your voice crawls from your throat, “a-a-almost done.”

“Alright, just checking,” he drones back, his tone as dull as ever.

You wait, listening for the scuff of his soles as he backs away. You climb to your feet, stumbling into the sink and catching yourself. You turn on the faucet and rinse your hands under the cold water, spreading it over your face as you try to wash off the past.

You dry off and approach the door. You stare at the wood as your hand rests on the handle. You don’t know if you can do it. You can’t face him. You won’t survive.

You twist the handle and let yourself out into the dim hall. There’s only the light glowing from the front of the house. You take a breath and walk the hall as if you’re marching to the gallows. As you come to the front of the staircase, you find the entryway empty.

“Hey,” Bucky startles you from behind. You turn to face him as he appears in a doorway further down, diagonal from the bathroom, “in here. Just heating up the kettle.”

You nod and glance around. When you face him again, he’s watching you. Your fingers twiddle nervously as you pad towards him.

“Sorry about my friend. He can be pushy,” he steps back as you get to the door, letting you inside. His kitchen is nice; steely metal and gray granite. The kettle hums on the counter, a blue light glowing through the glass. “I’ll deal with him later though.”

“I-it’s f-f-fine,” you eke out.

“You sure?” He asks.

You stop and turn back to him. You shrug. What can you say? He wouldn’t believe you if you told him the truth. Just like everyone else.

“Y-yeah,” you bring your hands together, tugging on your index finger, wiggling it as if you might free it from the socket, “I th-think…” you lean back on your heel and look towards the door, “th-this will b-b-be a one t-time thing.”

“What?” He snaps.

“Th-the sc-scr-script. M-my lap-top broke a-and… I n-n-need a r-real job,” you sway back and forth, “s-s-sorry.”

He exhales deeply. You can’t even look at him. You hear the disappointment in just his breath but you’re used to that. That’s what you do. You let people down.

“I understand, you got a lot going on at home but I would prefer to maintain the same tone throughout the podcast. I wouldn’t want to get someone else,” he argues, “we haven’t even recorded yet. Can’t you see how it turns out before you make up your mind?”

“I d-don’t know…” you clasp your hands together, squeezing tight until the circulation slows to a throb. “I c-c-can’t–”

“You know, I’m sure your parents want you out as much as you want out. This could be your chance. I’m not paying you pennies.”

You wince. That alone tells you what he thinks of you. You’re pathetic enough to live with your parents so you’ll take anything. Even him and this stupid podcast. Your bat your lashes as your eyes burn. No, you walked out of that office and didn’t look back. You can do it again.

“K-keep y-y-your money,” you spin on your heel and stomp past him.

He tries to latch onto you but you dodge him. You continue down the hall and grab your coat and purse, shoving your feet clumsily into your boots. He follows you, lurking as you slip the folio under your other arm.

“What did I do? Come on. Don’t walk away. We both know you need this.”

“I d-d-don’t need you,” you insist as you turn your back on him. “I’ll b-b-be j-just fine at my p-parents’.”

You pull the door open and plunge out into the rising storm. The weather reflects your insides. Violent, cold, and thrashing. You stop at the edge of the walk and bend to spit a mouth of bile into the snow. It doesn’t stop as your stomach churns with waves of memories washing over you.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #au #silverfox au #marvel #mcu #captain america #winter soldier #silver lining #series

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dragonnan · 7 months ago

Text

Nightmare

May 15

This one was published back in 2021. While it isn't a dreaming type of nightmare, I think it still qualifies.

Please let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged :)

He could have taken the helicopter but, quite frankly, he had needed the drive in order to structure what he would say to them. Though, even as he pulled the sleek vehicle into the drive; gravel snapping and popping beneath the narrow tyres, he was no more prepared than he'd been when he'd left London. After turning off the engine he hung back for a beat – hands gripped around the wheel.

Whatever gods exist please let them not be home...

The house door opened and Mycroft swallowed – eyes closing for just a moment.

Before they could step out into the yard, however, Mycroft schooled his face and exited his car; feet settling onto the dusty drive. He should have changed into something more fitting; his polished black shoes were going to be scuffed beyond recovery.

“It's been three days; we've heard nothing – not even from that assistant of yours...” Words trailed away as Mycroft neared the door – those keen grey eyes taking in his features. Then, finally, his mother swallowed. “I'll go fetch your father.”

He followed inside. The trappings of the holiday still bedecked the walls and tucked in corners – red and green and things that glittered. The ghost of that wretched holiday nearly enough to spin his gut. Had it really been just three days? Having hung back in the sitting room, surrounded by the ruin of Christmas, Mycroft waited until he heard the back door open and shut – until he heard the tread of work boots cross the floor and the hiss of the tap as his father washed up at the sink. He'd been out in his workshop, then.

When he eventually made his way into the kitchen, his mother was setting the kettle to boil. There was a rum cake on the table – a holdover from their broken celebrations. Mycroft was quite certain he would never again deign to eat another slice of rum cake.

He felt caught in a current – his limbs disconnected from the floor below as he watched his parents carry out familiar movements cast in the die of decades – repeated and worn into the shape of the spaces around him until the very molecules in the air had been carved to fit their steps. It was nearly a head-rush that would have staggered him had he not been clinging with one hand on the door jam – that sensation of events playing themselves out to infinity. That sickening slip of déjà vu that wanted him to carry out his own predetermined patterns. He had taken these steps before... sat at the table, unburdened dire news which would fracture their family with regards to the youngest of them... that pall of death that had followed Sherlock from the very first time Mycroft had forced air into his stilled lungs in a filthy doss house. Seventeen years old and ODed on a tainted dose of cocaine from a disreputable dealer. Had he been the one, then, to stay that boney specter – to demand favor that would, eventually, demand its due?

Was this to be the payment demanded? To stand to the side while the blade of the guillotine fell?

Or was he the one required to let slip the rope from his fingers?

“Mycroft?”

His father's voice and proximity sent a rush of inhaled air through Mycroft's nose – head jerking back a fraction until his dark musings returned him to the room he'd fled. The tea was ready and Mummy stood next to the table while his father was less than a foot away – concern on both of their faces.

He stiffened his shoulders and walked to the executioner's block.

Once sat, he took his cup in hand and even sipped the warmth – his body so cold that it felt like a blaze sliding down his throat. He was aware that he was handling this all very badly.

His mother, likely sensing the impasse holding his teeth together, finally spoke to life the fear wrapping them all.

“Sherlock will not be allowed to go free.”

Mycroft's eyes fluttered shut, then, and he shook his head.

“No.”

“But you did not travel for over an hour to tell us that. We knew there would be a punishment of some sort. It's worse than that. Isn't it.” Her own tea remained untouched. At the edge of his vision, Mycroft watched his father take hold of his mother's hand. When had their home ever been so silent?

“He is to be held in solitary until the week's end. He is to have no visitors; myself included. On Friday, Sherlock will be escorted to my private airfield. There he will board a jet, to be taken to a location, deemed by M16 to be of high-value, which I am not at liberty to disclose... even to you. Such is the nature of this mission that, upon successful completion, Sherlock's debts will be forgiven and his slate wiped clean.”

Throughout this Mycroft kept his eyes fixed on his cup – watching the surface steam as it dissipated above the rim. When he finished, he considered another sip before noting the tremor in his hands that were held gathered in his lap. He breathed, measured in a count of eight, until they stilled.

Mummy, however, dithered with the cup in her free hand – the porcelain skidding on the old tabletop. Her voice, when it came, was stripped to a jerking hush. “Will he...?” Whatever remained of her question locked up tight behind her throat and when Mycroft lifted his head it was to watch a tear seep down one pale cheek.

But, then, he knew what it was she was asking. And maybe his silence, in reply, was more than enough answer because she turned into Siger's embrace and, with shaking shoulders, began to weep.

Some time later, Mycroft was halfway through his third cigarette, while overlooking the back garden. The burning fag jutted from between two fingers where they rested on the black metal gate. How recently he stood in this very place.

It had grown quite chilly, the past several nights; dipping down as low as six degrees. There was even the chance of snow flurries in the morning.

Finishing the cigarette, Mycroft tapped the ash tip against the fence before tucking the butt in his pocket. It struck him, then, that he would never steal away for a smoke with his brother ever again.

He didn't remember when he moved. He only knew that he came to himself as he was pounding his fists against one of the rough stone posts that stood on either side of the gate. The blood in his ears was pumping so loudly that he could not hear what tore from his throat – could only feel it in the vibration of his vocal chords. In truth he would have remained lost in his rage far longer had not arms wrapped around him from behind. In that moment Mycroft knew his father's embrace.

He sagged, then, in those strong arms. Stronger than the older man appeared to anyone who didn't know him. He held his oldest child as Mycroft tipped his face down into his spread hands and began to sob. Rough, jagged pieces of glass that left behind bleeding wounds where they ripped through his chest.

How long they stood there was lost to time. Mycroft only knew that at some point his father had laid an arm across his shoulders and was guiding him inside with soft words while Mycroft had all he could do to place one foot before the other in a mostly straight path.

When next he was logging events it was to blink owlishly at the stout mug of something steaming and alcoholic resting on the coffee table, before him. He lifted it and took a sip. Ah – father's special hot toddy spiced with cardamom. He had taken several sips before finally taking in more of the room. His eyebrows lowered when he noticed that the only other person in the room was his father – the older man sitting in his favorite chair next to the fireplace. His face was haggard and eyes rimmed red. At Mycroft's glance, Siger tipped his head towards the hall.

“She's lying down. It was... it's too much. We almost lost him, so recently, and now...” his throat bobbed and he subsided – long fingers twisting together. Mycroft held the warm mug in his hands – his fingertips tapping against the rim. Only then did he feel the sting rising in his knuckles. Blood filled every crease – though it was obvious the injuries had been cleaned and treated with a topical ointment. His eyes closed and he felt the flash of burn from his dried out stare. He was aware of losing time repeatedly and, were he not so emotionally flattened, it would have been troubling.

He held the mug in his hands until it cooled – setting it aside once he finally noticed the absence of heat.

“I've failed him.”

The words whispered free before his mind had fully formed them. Yet, the moment they were voiced he knew the truth of them. He had failed. The only mission in his life which truly mattered and he had failed... abysmally.

And his brother would pay for that failure. And there was nothing he could do to repair this.

He expected no response from his father – what was there to say? He was aware of Siger looking towards the low flames in the fireplace. His eyes were wet.

And so they remained; each trapped in their own misery.

An hour later his father stood, approaching to rest a hand against his cheek, for a moment, before going off to bed.

He had only intended to deliver his news before returning home but Mycroft found he scarcely had the energy remaining to slip his shoes from his feet before curling on his side.

He was asleep before he even finished the mental note to call Anthea in the morning.

The following day was possibly worse than the evening which had preceded it. His mother was, by turns, furious and horribly silent. Even his father, normally a stoic man, had a tremble in his jaw and more than once wiped beneath his eyes. It was a journey through hell as Mycroft forewent breakfast in his urgency to flee.

There were six additional texts from John as well as two voicemails. Certainly no point in perusing them – it was readily apparent what the man had to say and Mycroft deleted them without bothering to listen. He had no answers for him and the ones he could have provided would be a disservice to his brother's friend. There were too few things he could do for Sherlock. This, at the least, was a mercy he could offer.

There were many affairs he had to put into order. As it was they were not entirely new – having been established the last time Sherlock had confronted a madman. The difference, of course, was that Mycroft's involvement, back then, was to provide the greatest assurance of his brother's survival. Now...

It struck him, all at once, in a sort of breathless fashion so strongly that he was forced to pull to the side of the road. His hands clasped on the steering wheel and he felt a wild pounding through his chest and it was some outer observation of himself that recognized panic. That part of him, though, was incapable of offering more and even his sense of time was wiped away until he finally, eventually, came back to himself layered in sweat that felt icy against his temples. His mouth was tacky and dry so he opened his door to walk around back to the boot where he had a cooler among other supplies. The water almost hurt when he first swallowed – his throat was so parched. In short order, however, he'd emptied it and screwed the cap back onto the depleted bottle – tossing it into the cooler before retrieving a second and taking it back to the driver's seat.

It was an additional ten minutes before Mycroft felt confident to drive. But as he pulled out onto the roadway it was with a hum of determination that had begun to build from the moment Sherlock had pulled the trigger to end Magnussen's miserable life. He would not allow Sherlock to face this alone. Not while blood still pumped though his veins. No, he may not be able to alter this fate. However, he still had the autonomy his position afforded.

Even if it meant walking with his brother into the flames.

His uncle would have accused him of excessive drama. Rudy, though, had long viewed sentiment as little more than a tool for manipulation. And, in that moment, Mycroft found he didn't care one whit what Rudy Vernet thought.

He needed to contact Anthea again – an adjustment to protocols which had been previously established. She would not thank him, once she became aware of his intentions. However, she would, he hoped, understand. There was no other way.

In three days he would watch his brother board a private jet.

An hour later, Mycroft would take a temporary leave – boarding a commercial flight under an alias known only to Anthea.

He was quite certain he would never see London again.

He found no regret in this choice. In fact, for the first time since Christmas, he felt peace.

He only had one last task to accomplish – something he had promised his brother before Sherlock was locked away in a private cell. Contact dialed on his mobile, Mycroft was unsurprised when it was picked up scarcely after a single ring.

“Mycroft – what the hell is going on? Where is Sherlock...?”

“John. My apologies. Sherlock has been detained and I'm afraid he has not been allowed contact. However I...” he licked his lips; suddenly aware of a dangerous tremble which he forced aside before it could slip into his speech, “I was able to procure... a moment.”

“Moment? What...”

“To say goodbye. John.” Not fully silent, on the other end, Mycroft was able to note the sudden deep breaths. One last mercy, perhaps. “As recompense for the shooting, Sherlock is to avail himself to MI6 as a field operative. It was deemed a far better fate than to waste away in a cell.”

The breathing caught as John composed himself. When his voice returned it was subdued.

“How long?”

Mycroft rubbed his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Indefinitely.”

He had no trouble imaging John's eyes shuttering closed. “I see.”

They disconnected shortly afterward.

As grayed hills gave way to London streets, Mycroft pulled the tatters of self back around his shoulders. This was for the best. After 6 months, John Watson would receive a substantial deposit into his bank account – more than enough to see to his child's upbringing and education. He would know only that Sherlock had arranged for the funds via his trust. He would wonder – likely assume, correctly, that Sherlock was no longer alive. He would mourn and he would move on. After all, he had done so, once before.

As to Mary; Mycroft would have her under watch. Anthea would see it through personally. Should the former assassin ever show any indication of returning to her former life... should she ever present a danger to John or their child... it would be handled. His parents...

And here Mycroft faltered in his manic plans.

And not only his parents. He had responsibilities that only he, and very few others, were aware existed.

He... he could not do as he desperately wished.

There was only a vast emptiness of winter pale hills beyond the windscreen. The promised flurries had begun to fall shortly after five that morning – the roadway gilded with sparking flakes that frosted the browned grass and clung to the branches of trees. As the flakes began to thicken, building into a proper snow, Mycroft switched on the fog lights in spite of the fact he shared the road with no other vehicles.

Before the weight of it all could drag him beneath the rising waves, Mycroft mentally took hold of himself. He had allowed emotion to wrest control of his faculties. He had... indulged a fantasy. But that was all it would ever be. It was over now. It was all over, now.

It was time to move forward.

His parents would never forgive him. This, though, was something he had been prepared to face. And it wouldn't be the first child he had taken from them.

Before his maudlin thoughts could overtake him, yet again, Mycroft dialed a number on his mobile once again. There was no sound of a ring and only moments passed before he heard the click of a connection. “Anthea. I need you to make arrangements. It's for John Watson... and Sherlock.” He licked his lips; moving into a lane that would take him into the city and on to Whitehall. He remembered, with sudden and breathtaking vibrancy, a tiny face with watery blue eyes, peering up at him from the folds of the blanket cradled in Mummy's arms. And he knew, as well, that he gave himself away with the tremble that broke in his voice.

“It's time to say goodbye.”

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Tagging: @totallysilvergirl

#sherlock #fanfic #may prompts 2024 #nightmare #mycroft holmes

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trumpkinhotboy · 1 year ago

Text

Lean on me

Pairing: Twin Brother!Nick Nelson x Twin sister!Reader

Type: Request (thank you so much!!)

Genre: Angst that ends with a lot of fluff

Warnings: Sexual Assault situation. Although the details aren't of extreme nature, it can still be a hard thing to read for some people, so be careful <33

Rating: 13+ (because of SA)

Word count: ~ 4600

Requests: Open! For Heartstopper, twilight wolfpack, chronicles of narnia and harry potter

A/n: I was really inspired for this fic and it took me quite some time to write it. I hope you will enjoy protective brother nick nelson and the fluff with the Paris gang as much as I do. If you have any requests feel free to message me !!

A/n pt.2: Please don't come for me for my summary, I fucking hate writing those xoxo

*gif is not mine!!

Summary: The reader goes to a party without her twin brother, Nick. Through different circonstances, she ends up dancing with someone who might have not rightfully earned her trust. The situation quickly escalates to horrible heights. She will have no other choice, but to learn how to defend herself, and how to lean on the people who matters for her.

Your heart is racing, your eyes are burning, and silent tears stream down your face. You rest on the threshold of the door you've just exited from. You can't grasp and even begin to process what just happened. You look up, hearing your name being called from afar. It feels like you're in a different dimension. Everywhere you look, reality seems distorted by some filter. Finally, you focus on your mother's face. She's sitting in her little car, window down, waving at you. Automatically, your body starts walking toward the car, but mentally you are elsewhere. In a dark corridor up in this horrible mansion. Trapped.

Your heart beats in a thumping rhythm as you cross the threshold of the mansion. Music is blasting out at an alarmingly loud volume with the place already packed.

You try to calm your breathing and to remember you were invited and belong here as much as anybody else. The few people you cross paths with wave at you. You smile back, trying to look confident and relaxed. The image of collected cool.

Even though there's actually a weight dropping in your stomach.

You are, after all, Nick Nelson's twin sister. He has a certain 'popular kid' reputation that was mostly passed on to you by association. You are both known for being nice and popular kids. Although you definitely are more lowkey than your 'rugby king' brother. So, even if you aren't sure these people are your crowd, you couldn't refuse when you had been invited to some guy's end-of-exams party.

It wasn't rare for you to be invited to events like this. Although, it was one of the few times your brother didn't join you. Ever since he started dating Charlie and got closer with the Paris gang, you could see less and less of him at these kinds of gatherings. That's why tonight, instead of being here with you, drinking lukewarm punch and listening to questionable music as some alcoholized teens were being unleashed in a mansion worth ten times your house, he was hanging out at home with his friends. You would much rather be with them, but they were Nick's friends, and even though they were nice to you, you always felt like the annoying sister trying to tag along in her brother's friend group.

That's why even when 95% of you wanted to turn back around and escape that terrible party, you took a deep breath in and let yourself be swallowed by the crowd of people.

10:15pm. You had been here for an hour, and it did not get better. The cup of punch in your hands was sticky and smelled incredibly weird. No doubt because someone had dumped in a bunch of mixed liquors. Your friends were all hanging around. Either dancing or flirting with some questionable-behaving young men. You couldn't help but look at your phone about a thousand times in the last twenty minutes. You thought about calling your mother. You knew she'd come to fetch you, but then what? You'd go back home? Seeing Nick and all of his friends having a jolly old time while you had failed to have a good night on your own? No, thank you.

You loved Nick to death, but sometimes, seeing how liked he was proved to be incredibly difficult for you. You always felt like an impostor. He dared to be himself, and people liked him anyway. You weren't so sure you'd be met with the same welcome if you dared step away from the facade you had carefully built all these years.

Maybe that's why you accepted to dance with someone you didn't even know. You did see each other around a few times but never actually spoke. He seemed nice enough, so when he reached out a hand and offered you to dance, you drank a sip of your horrible drink and joined him on the crowded dancefloor without question.

He was entertaining and invented goofy dance moves to make you laugh, but all the while, something felt off. You felt like you were being watched. Sometimes, you'd see his gaze over you as if he was looking at someone else. Each time you'd try to look in that direction to see who he might be looking at, he'd find some clever way to focus your attention elsewhere. After a few songs, you were both out of breath, sweaty, and hoping for a break. You were about to invent a creative excuse to get away when he offered to get some water. You hesitated, trying to look around for a friend, but none were in sight.

"Come on, we'll get some water and air if you want to. I know a spot." His expression was kind and seemed genuine. That's why, again, you followed him even though some small part of you screamed that you shouldn't.

The feeling in your gut turned queasy as he led you through dark corridors. The once kind smile that graced his features seemed to turn smug as you headed deeper into the house. You finally reached a little room far away from the agitated crowd. He opened the door, inviting you inside. "Are you coming?"

Your feet were rooted to the ground, the feeling in your stomach spreading to your entire body. This felt wrong.

"Uhm, no. I think my mom will be here soon. I should go." You took a step backward, trying to put some distance between the two of you. Trying to calm the instinct that screamed at you to run.

"Oh, come on. Don't you want a glass of water?"

You only stared at him, not daring to respond, too scared to fall into this trap he layed in front of you. You knew water would not be involved if you entered that room, and he seemed to get that too, "We had fun, didn't we?" the change in his tone made shivers creep up your arms. Gone was his facade of the innocent boy. He now looked like a snake trying to lure in his prey.

"Yeah, but now it's time for me to go. Thanks."

He stepped towards you, making you fully back into the wall. "Please stay. It's my party, you know. The least you could do is stay a little longer with me."

You looked around, noticing his arms had crept on the wall on either side of you.

"Please get your arms off," you demanded. You tried to make your voice sound assured but failed to hide the quiver in it. He noticed it, and the glim of rotten confidence in his eyes shone brighter. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

He trailed one finger up your arm, your stomach tying in knots at the touch. "You know, I've seen you around a lot. You're Nick Nelson's sister. People talk about you. They say you're stuck up. You've never had a boyfriend or anything, am I right? I like girls like that, so nice, so pure."

You almost threw up on him, the allusions making you feel nauseous. You couldn't, and wouldn't, hide the disgust filling your eyes. You looked around, hoping to see someone turn up. Praying for someone to come, but it seemed you were out of luck as the corridor stayed empty.

His hand went up in your hair, and you held your breath. Terror like you had never felt before paralyzed your body. "The guys bet you wouldn't get with me, but I think we have potential together. Am I right? We could head in that little room together and see what happens."

You felt the hand on your waist slowly slide down your hip, tugging you closer.

"Get off of me!" you exploded as you pushed him back as hard as you could. He hit the door behind him quite hard, the doorknob digging in his back. You made a headstart to get away, but before you could get further, his hand grabbed your wrist, tightening his grip until he had you wincing in pain.

He gritted his teeth, ambers of rage dancing in his eyes. "Oh, come on, don't be like this. Stay here with me, and we'll have fun." He pulled you backward by the collar of your shirt, and you heard the fabric rip with a distinct sound. He pressed you tight on his chest. You could feel every part of him pushing hard against your back. He gripped your hips while his other hand fumbled with your chest. His foul mouth on your neck.

Refusing to give up, you gathered all the self-defense knowledge you had and stepped on his foot as hard as you could, hitting him with your elbow in the stomach at the same time. You put all your strength in the blow as if you were trying to pierce him through. You knew you cut the air from his body with the sound he made. His arms loosened up for a second, and this time, when you started running in the opposite direction, nothing stopped you.

Running as fast as you could, you looked back for a second. Unable to resist the reflex to confirm you weren't being followed. Whipping your head to the front, you couldn't dodge when someone suddenly exited a door on the side. You crushed into them with blunt strength, almost sending you two toppling down.

"Oi! Watch where you're going- Oh, Y/n. Are you okay?"

The voice sounded incredibly familiar, and your gaze focused for a second. Sai, one of Nick's good mates, was staring at you, worry digging down the corners of his mouth.

"Uhm, I- I'm sorry. I have to go." You couldn't stop and risk getting caught again, so you started running, leaving Sai looking at your disappearing form.

You fled outside, already texting your mother. You hid until you saw the familiar form of the family car. Sprinting towards it, you climbed in as fast as you could.

"Well, someone's in a hurry to come home." chuckled your mother as she headed towards the exit. "The party wasn't fun?"

Forehead resting on the cold window, you couldn't say a word. If you were honest, you could barely register what your mother said. All you could feel was his hands on you. His lips on your neck. The phantom sensations gave you the horrible feeling that he was still grabbing you. That you were still trapped up there.

Your mother's touch on your arm brought you back to reality. "Are you okay, darling?" Even the soft touch on your arm was enough to make you shudder. "Y/n, did something happen?"

Your gaze connected with hers for a split second, but you willed the fear in your eyes to disappear. To go back to a dissociated gaze. Allowing nothing to show.

"I don't want to talk about it now," you mumbled while covering the tear in your shirt with your hoodie. You needed to comprehend what had happened before you could say something. Even if you wanted to, the words were stuck in your throat.

Your mother stayed silent for the rest of the ride, although you could feel her gaze on you a few times. You felt like she'd say something until she faced the road again without adding a word.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, you made for the door. You wanted nothing else but to disappear into your room. Your escape was halted when your mom grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You winced at the pain it inflicted and the reminder it brought. The look in your eyes was one of undiluted terror.

Her face turned white as a ghost's. "Y/n, I will give you your space for now, but I want you to know and understand that we will discuss this."

Your house was filled with music and happy voices. You could hear through cotton-filled ears someone call your name but didn't stop. When you slipped into your room, you stood in the dark and looked at your wrist. The red mark on it was already turning to a soft purple. A whimper escaped your mouth as you sunk to the floor.

You cried and cried and cried. The adrenaline had left your body, and the walls you had built around you to survive had been torn down. With a hand on your mouth, you tried to maintain your sobs to a minimum volume.

What the actual fuck was all you could manage to think.

Catching a glance of yourself in the mirror hanging on your wall, a wave of disgust ravaged you. In the darkness, like glow-in-the-dark marks, you could see the print of his hands on you, the sloppy marks he left on your neck. You felt disgusting. You needed to wash this off now.

You headed for the bathroom, trying not to attract anyone's attention. You were about to grab the doorknob when the door opened on a surprised Tara.

"Oh my god, Y/n, you scared me! I didn't know you were here," she exclaimed with her usual cheerfulness.

You stayed silent, feeling like you had been caught red-handed. Shame crept on your cheeks.

In a second, she analyzed the state you were in. The tear on the collar of your shirt. Your puffy eyes, your red cheeks. "What happened to you? What happened to your shirt? Are you okay?"

Her sweet concern was all it took for you to tumble into tears again. She helped you back to your room, supporting and hugging you tight. You babbled incoherently about what had happened. You just needed these horrible words to be out of your system. You needed this unbearable reality out of your head, needed the constant litany of words to stop.

Tara listened to your whole story and managed to understand through your sobs. As you finished, out of breath, she convinced you to let her get Nick. You dreaded it at first, so scared to see his reaction, but the once-in-a-while seriousness in Tara's tone managed to persuade you.

You heard her going down the stairs and waited in silence. You held your breath. The house was utterly silent as if it was also holding its breath. Then, it erupted, and all you could hear was someone climbing up the stairs at an alarming pace. Your door opened on a whim, almost digging a hole in your wall with how strongly it went flying back.

Your twin brother was standing on your doorstep, his chest going up and down quickly. He didn't say anything. He just scanned you from head to toe before reaching out his arms. Engulfing you in a tight embrace, he rocked you back and forth.

"Tell me," was all he said, his tone hoarse and hard.

"I was anxious and bored, and this guy asked me to dance. We did, and then he offered to get some water and air. I followed him but felt this grip in my gut. Felt like something was off. He led me to a dark room. I refused to go in and said I had to go, but then he backed me into this wall. Saying stuff about what other people thought about me and about some bet he'd made with his friends. I- I tried escaping Nick, I really did, I promise. I kept my distance, I told him to go away, but he wouldn't. I pushed him and tried to make a run for it, but he grabbed my wrist and started touching me. I managed to defend myself and get away. I ran into someone. I think it was Sai. I stopped for a second but couldn't tell him anything, so I ran again and hid until Mum came to pick me up."

The silence in your room was deafening. His whole being was at a standstill. Nick wasn't known to be a violent person. Quite the opposite, but you felt like that was about to change.

"Show me where he hurt you."

You extended your wrist, the mark gone even darker than before.

"Anywhere else?" he reluctantly asked.

You couldn't, and wouldn't, show him where precisely but managed to wave your hand towards your neck and upper body. Shame once again invaded your cells. His eyes filled with despair and so much rage. He hugged you tight again. "I'm going to kill him."

You whipped your head up. The look in your brother's eyes was one you had never seen before. Immediately, guilt flooded your thoughts.

"Nick, you can't get involved in this. I'm so sorry I got into all this trouble. I don't want it to affect you at school. I shouldn't have followed him. This is my fault."

He looked at you incredulously. As if you had just said the dumbest thing he had ever heard.

"Y/n, you didn't get in trouble. Someone assaulted you. You are not at fault here. Do you understand? Because I really need you to." He tightened his grip on you, his cheek on the crown of your head. "I don't need you to pull some Charlie number on me."

"A Charlie number, uh?" you heard a familiar voice speak up.

Charlie's head peeked from your door. The face of comfort and reassurance. "Can I come in?" You nodded as he made his way to the bed. "Although I'm not sure what exactly he's referring to, I'm pretty sure he's right. You shouldn't feel guilty for something someone did to you, okay? Especially for something like this."

You saw the hint of pain flashing in his eyes and remembered he had experienced something similar.

He reached a hand you immediately grabbed. You had loved Charlie since that first day he came to your house to meet Nellie. There was something about him that always made you feel safe and comfortable. His presence here meant a lot to you. "You okay?"

You still weren't precisely grabbing the heaviness of what had happened. But the support you were shown helped you manage the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. You nodded feebly.

"What do you want to do?" finally asked Nick. "Can we do anything for you right now?"

You confessed you did not want to be alone tonight. You dreaded being left with your thoughts, scared they would swallow you whole. "I just want to feel safe," you whispered.

The words were like a dagger to Nick and Charlie's hearts. They both felt so guilty about not being there to protect you. What happened tonight brought them back to the beginning of their relationship. When Charlie had been through the same thing you just did. It awakened so many unpleasant and painful memories in their hearts.

"Of course. We can stay with you all night," said Nick with a kind smile, and you knew he meant it.

He offered to watch a movie, knowing that was your thing when you needed comfort. He felt that nothing he could do would help you heal from the experience you just had, but he'd do anything in his power to make you feel better. Your eyes light up at the suggestion, and he couldn't help a loving smile from lighting up his face.

"The gang is still down there. If you want, I can ask them to leave?" suggested Charlie. "Even I can go home if you would rather be alone with your family. That'd be totally understandable."

If you were being honest, you would love for them to stay. The more, the merrier, and Nick's friends were such a cheerful and caring group. You knew they would be supportive. You hesitated, on the edge of saying yes.

Nick felt your hesitation and put a hand atop Charlie and yours. "We can ask everyone to leave if you want to, no problem. But if you feel comfortable and want them here, I know they'd love to."

You finally admitted you'd love for them to stay. Charlie went downstairs to fill them in. Leaving you in the room, still wrapped in your brother's arms. Both of you weren't ready to move just yet.

"If you want them to leave or need anything at any moment, I want you to come straight to me. Is that clear?" You nodded. "And while they set everything up, I have to tell Mum. She's worried sick, and rightfully so."

You nodded once again, knowing she deserved to know. Still, you couldn't help your stomach from twisting in knots at the thought of this thing spreading out.

Always so observant, Nick noticed how scared you looked. "Please, trust me, let me handle this. You don't have to worry about a thing. Just let me deal with it. You can lean on me." You mumbled an 'okay' as he kissed the top of your hair.

An invisible promise to protect you forever.

The gang all split up to help make you feel better. Elle, Tara, and Darcy helped you clean up. You didn't want to be alone. So when you looked anxious to step in the bathroom, they all suggested they'd sit down in there, waiting for you. They were incredibly caring and supportive. Acting like this wasn't out of the blue and odd. You knew Nick and Charlie had filled them in, but none dared to say a thing. Their respect for your privacy and light chatting were both things you were incredibly grateful for. In the meantime, Tao and Isaac prepared the living room for the movie. They went all out and built a fort of pillows and blankets with snacks, ready to welcome you when you were done.

As for Nick and Charlie, they were dealing with the situation. They told everything to your mum and contacted Sai to find out what he'd seen. He immediately admitted seeing you running away from a corridor, shirt torn up, with tears running down your face. He found the guy in question, still catching his breath, and pieced two and two together. He even got him to admit the whole thing. He questioned some guys and even confirmed the horrible rumor of the bet. It had taken everything, and encouragement from Charlie, for Nick to stay put and not rush back there to beat his ass. Even your 'anti-violence' mother kept her mouth shut while Nick uttered threats, each worse than the other. The next day would already be horrible enough for the guy without Nick having to get in trouble had reassured his boyfriend.

Forty-five minutes later, you were all covered in blankets, resting on pillows, cuddled up together. Nick and Charlie were sitting on either side of you. Your brother's arm reached around you and his boyfriend.

The rest of the gang was scattered around the floor and the couch, but you were still all touching. Forming an unbreakable chain of support and love.

You looked around and felt so grateful as you looked at the people present. Nick squeezed your hand with a kind smile, a quick check-up to confirm you were still okay. You cleared your throat, gathering everyone's attention. The movie softly played in the background while you started, "I wanted to thank you for this. You have all been incredible. Thank you for helping me, and I hope you can forgive me for interrupting your end-of-exams party."

"Hush with that. As if we'd ever be mad for something like this." intervened Elle. She put a comforting hand on your shin, her features so open and caring. You couldn't help but give her an answering smile.

"Did you really think we'd resent you for what happened tonight?" inquired Charlie. Once again, a light of understanding sparkled in his blue eyes.

"No, but it's just... This was your thing. Your party, and once again, I'm intruding in and forcing you guys to hang out with me."

"Forcing us?!" cut Tara. "Y/n, I don't think anyone here would feel forced to hang out with you. We like hanging out with you!"

Your eyes shone with surprise and something like relief. They all looked at each other incredulously. Not quite believing that you didn't know how much they liked you. "What?! Did you think we only thought of you as Nick's little sister?"

You turned your head towards a disbelieving Tao. Your shy silence was an answer in itself.

"You have great taste in movies. Plus, you have a lot of knowledge about the cinematic universe. I like hanging out with you because you're the only one in this group with decent expertise of the culture." He added enthusiastically. Pronouncing that last word with his usual mediocre impression of a Scottish accent, he extorted a laugh from your chest.

"And you like to dance, and for some reason, you get Darcy's poor sense of humor," added Tara with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. To which her girlfriend lightly tapped her leg in protest.

"And you're into art, and you're actually the only one in this group who can give me constructive criticism about my work." Your gaze dropped back to Elle, giving an accusatory look at the rest of the group.

"And you're the only one willing to have a book club with me. Don't think I can talk and have actual discussions with this lot about all the books I read," finished Isaac with a shy smile. He was the first in the gang, after Charlie, with whom you felt really close. You squeezed his hand as a silent thanks.

"We're trying to tell you how you mean so much more to us. You're Y/n Nelson. We like hanging out with you because you're a great person with great interests. Not because we have to. Not because you're Nick's sister." explained Charlie. He knew how it felt when you thought people didn't honestly like you. Or when you thought they'd be better off without you. He saw so much of himself inside of you. It made his heart tighten with sadness and love.

You stared at them all, a few tears burning in the corners of your eyes. You coughed, trying to hide the emotion flaring up in you.

"You are part of this group if you want to Y/n." Charlie nudged you with his shoulder as if he had read your thoughts. You lifted hopeful eyes towards him. You felt as if your heart might burst with joy.

"I-"

"I'm not giving you any choice." cut Darcy out of the blue."You are part of the gang. Nothing you can do about it." she declared. As always, her unexpected comment had everyone laughing. You looked at her triumphant face, euphoria spreading in your chest.

You looked at your brother, who was already beaming at you, pride and joy mixed in that sweet expression. The tears in your eyes welled up and, against the better of you, softly dropped on your cheeks.

"Are these tears of joy...?" asked Isaac, speaking for the whole group. You had been through a lot tonight, and they had hoped their intervention would have made you happy. But they questioned if it had been too much, too soon.

You let out a soft chuckle. "Yes."

In a team effort, the whole gang jumped on you. Engulfing your body in an embrace of warmth, love, and laughter, a lot of laughter.

"I'm so sorry for being such a..."

You stopped mid-sentence when you felt a pinch on your arm, only to hear Nick whisper, "From now on, you are also banned from saying the 's' word. So shut it and enjoy." The whole group, including yourself, erupted in laughter.

There would be a lot of hardships coming in the next few days, but knowing you had them all made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you'd be able to weather it.

#ilya writes #nick nelson #nick nelson x twin sister!reader #nick nelson x sibling!reader #nick nelson x reader #paris gang x reader #heartstopper #heartstopper fic #nick nelson fic #nick and charlie #alice oseman #kit connor #joe locke #charlie spring

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canmargesimpson · 7 months ago

Text

Idk just a weird story I got in the middle of the night

When Robin told Steve they were going to New York to see an old friend, the last thing on his mind was to end up in an underground queer bar with drag queens and prostitutes. I mean he’s not complaining, but why couldn’t they meet over coffee like friends, or just a regular bar, but no. It had to be a basement of a pizza restaurant where glitter and the sticky feeling was all around them.

“Robin, are you sure this is the place?” he said as she moved through the crowd to a free table, in front of the small yet very illuminated stage “cuz i dont think… these are your type of friends?”

“Hey handsome” a transvestite placed a hand on his shoulder and let her long nail press along making him shiver “Want something to drink?”

Robin smiled, completely pleased with the situation his friend was it

“Give me a rum and coke, and for the gentleman… get him a shirley temple please”

“What?! No!” steve shook his head “ a beer is fine please”

“A rum and coke and shirley temple on their way” she laughs as she walks away

Robin laughs too as she takes her purse and places it on the table. Steve just flips her off and looks around trying to understand where they were. The drinks were eventually served, and thankfully Steve got his beer, but also a phone number.

“Wet Wendy?” Steve reads “Her name is Wet wendy…”

“I have heard worst” robin scruggs, “and come on, have fun, you’re a fresh bisexual, and you're surrounded by everything you might like, no need to stress”

Steve breathes deeply and looks around, and before he can say something a loud music starts. It's a 80s like beat that is quite slow, and the lights started to go down while the stage curtains open

“Steve, it's starting,” Robin says as she hands him a 20 dollar bill.

On the stage there's a chair and a woman with her back to the audience. She has long, vicious hair that is curly and puffy. The person turns around and starts to sing the song.

“We broke up on a tuesday,

kicked me out with the rent paid

Ruined my credit

Stole my cute aesthetic”

And oh boy was Steve hooked. Other than the amazing hair, she was wearing some small yet clear devil horns. On her face was drawn a big white heart on her face, with the rest being red. The face on her though made his jeans tight, but just a bit. I'm talking bright blue eyeshadow, with some jewels and some big lashes that made the eyes pop brighter than ever he thought it was possible. There was a red lip tainted on her lips that were glossy and shiny. And the outfit was the best part of it all. She was wearing black pleather heels with red and black lingerie that fit like a glove. No to add a thigh corset that shaped the body like an hourglass. Steve was drooling.

But when the bridge started steve was pretty sure he was in heaven

It’s hot

When you have a meltdown

In the front of your house

And you’re getting kicked out

It’s hot

When you’re drinking downtown

And you’re getting called out

Cause you’re running your mouth

Oh god

The way she crawled on the floor while lip syncing the moans of the song made Steve's ears burn like a fever. She then layed on the floor on her back, to then arch it and show the red wine bra that had black jewels like nippels. She then got on her feet and got off the stage and walked around. People started to hand her dollars and she just grabbed them, stuffed them on her bra and then painties. Steve had to blink twice to make sure he was awake.

The girl then noticed him. He cracked. He let out a sigh like a moan as she locked eyes with her. Her dark brown almost black eyes looked like those supernovae in Dustin space books. It just got him trapped voluntarily and it made him gulp. She started to strut to him and grabbed him by the jaw to look up at her.

Ruin your life

You losing you mind

You dying your hair

People say I’m jealous but my kink is watching you

crashing your car

You breaking your heart

You thinking I care

People say I’m jealous but my kink is karma

She sang those words as she stared at him and smirked while taking a seat on his lap. God he was in trouble now. It took everything in him to stay still and not let his third leg rise up, but sometimes things just happen and it's inevitable. He looked up at her so ashamed and sorry for what he's doing, and for making her uncomfortable. She is trying to do her job and here is Steve with his willy hard. But it was as he looked up in awe at her, as she sang to the audience while dancing on him, that she enjoyed it of sorts. She then looked down at him, smirked and kissed him, hardly leaving a bright red stain on his lips that he would rather die than to take it off.

She climbed off him and walked back to the stage to dance where she made it very clear that not only she loves the attention but also loves the feeling on the stage. She belongs there, with her hair flowing with her moves. The way she portrays the song made it feel like she was singing to him and only him. Steve felt like he was in a world with only him and her. It was crazy.

He didn't even realize she had left until robin was snapping her finger in front of him. He looked at her and blinked again quickly and looked around

“Where did she go?”

“Her set finished 10 minutes ago, have you just been imagining her this entire time you perv?” she laughs, but steve just stares at her

“I need to meet her” he says

“Well you will”

“What!?”

“Yeah! In a few so go to the bathroom and get yourself together men, your friend joined the party, and that not really cute when meeting new people”

Steve stood up and ran to the bathroom that thank the lord was empty at the time. He washed his face and removed the lipstick stain from his lips and tried to calm down whatever was happening with him and his body at the moment. God he's about to meet her! He need to make a great first impression because then he’s fucked. He moved his hair from one side to another till it looked great. He smiled to the mirror and winked hyping himself up.

“Come on harrington, you got this' ' He said before leaving the bathroom.

Robin and him walked toward the back of the so-called bar to where a room with a star on the door hung where the word “dressing room” was written. Robin knocked twice before opening the door to find a bunch of men in makeup and robes running around changing wig and shoes. But on the very end, the dark curly mane stood up clearly. Steve swallowed and inhaled deeply as they walked into the dressing room towards her. She was wearing one of those 50s womens robes with the edge being fur. It was black with red fur and it was transparent enough for Steve to see some tattoos on her back that he didn't seem to see earlier.

“Hey!!” Robin said excitedly and she turned around.

Steve’s smiles didn’t fall… but it definitely twitched.

“Hey robs” Eddie munson said with a cig on his lips.

He looked better than Steve remembered from high school. He looked…. Amazing actually. The way his jaw was sharp and fine, his smirk was wider and flirtier than ever. He looked…. Even better than the stage.

“How are you feeling harrington?” he smirked “didn’t know you were one for underground bars, i thought you were more of a… 3 star michelin kind of guy”

The way he smoothed talked and slithered into Steve’s head made him literally stutter with his words

“I-i-i I mean- You- wha- li-” he then gave up trying to speak and just nodded subtly “yep”

#by: me #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #modern steddie

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dulcibella-dreams · 8 months ago

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It’s exam time and SO is super serious about her exams. Studies, late nights, the anxiety is crazy. It was during one intense group study date were Minato tries to lighten up the situation by tickles and holding hands.

P3 protag and academically stressed S.O.!

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 A/N: (SO SORRY THIS TOOK 90 BILLION YEARS) I got such a cuteness aggression reading this request that was so embarrassing.....This sounds very much like a story type beat! There is just one more thing I think I misunderstood. When you said 'group date' I wasn't sure if you meant everyone or just you and Minato. Given the intimacy of the request, I opted for just you two. Hope that was the right call 😭Either way, I hope you enjoy anon!!!

Its been on your mind for weeks now. 'I can't fail. I'm going to fail. No, I can't fail.' It cycled remorselessly, invading your peace. You couldn't relax without guilt spearing through you. Your nights were study filled, falling asleep at your desk. Not to mention the stress headaches, breaks used only for studying, and being very restrictive with your leisure time. You were serious about these exams, but to a fault.

About 3 days before the exam, you came home to the dorm and had the intention to immediately retreat to your room, only to be stopped by your boyfriend. You felt a little guilty- you hadn't made much time for him. He tucked back a strand of dark blue hair, before retreating his hands into his pockets. "Do you want to study together?" You thought about it for a moment. His being there could either horribly distract you or completely motivate you to get everything done. You weren't about to pass up time with him though. "Sure. My room?" He gave you a small smile and a nod, and you both made your way up to your room. You looked at your small, crowded desk. While the floor was a somewhat...unorthodox place to study, it would have to do. Immediately, you set up your books and got started. So immersed in your work, you wouldn't have noticed that while Minato definitely was studying, the subject wasn't the upcoming exams. It was your furrowed brow, your nervous fidgeting, and your chapped lips. You were being absolutely ruthless to yourself. The air was almost viscous, not unlike honey. Heavy and muffling, it didn't feel like a study session- it felt like detention. As you took a deep breath, Minato reached for your hands. You were caught off guard, having retreated into your own stress induced world. "Take a break." Your rebuttal was instantly bubbling out of your lips, but he interrupted you. "You won't actually get anything from studying like this, you know." You just looked forlornly at the floor. You knew he was right, but allowing yourself this break felt like the key to your downfall. Your gaze laid on Minato's hands as he shut your workbook. "Come on, cheer up." You crossed your arms. "Minato, I can't afford to fail. I don't want to waste the time I have." Your tone wasn't harsh- but you were more than anything looking for a way to express your dismay. Minato shuffled over to you. Before you had enough time to look up his his way, he had playfully pushed you over. As he quickly straddled you, you yelped. He waggled his fingers, and you immediately laughed, crossing your arms around your waist. "Not an all out attack!!" His eyes sparkled with laughter. "I'm sorry, it's the only way." A smile played on your boyfriends lips as he trapped both of your wrists over your head with one hand. "Don't you dare!!! I swear to god-" You shrieked as he burrowed his free hand into your waist, begging for him to stop. Your yelps and laughs resounded through the dorm, and when he finally granted you mercy, your eyes were glazed with tears. "What was that even for!!" You playfully yell at him, bolting upright and grinning. Ever so gently, his index finger traced your upturned lips. "For this." His hands fall to yours, gently holding them as he set them in his lap. "For you."

#makoto yuki x reader #minato arisato x reader #persona 3 #persona 3 reload #p3 x reader #dulcis asks

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darksxder · 2 years ago

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rush it

pairing: frat boy! chad meeks-martin x fem! bff! reader

summary: you only rushed a sorority for chad’s sake, but you can’t imagine regretting it after the game of capture you get to play one fall night

warnings/tags: requited unrequited love, bittersweet (alleged by tae), skimpy bunny costume, angst and tension filled fluff, friends to lovers, deserves a second part honestly

word count: 2.1k

a.n. : I think this was subconsciously inspired by @ethansluvbot’s pfp of regina george in her bunny costume, so thank you fr!

sdt: @belle82devart

dt’s: @ethansluvbot , @midnightaemond & @spiderlover03

If someone had told you that you would be where you are right now, maybe a year ago-hell a few months ago, you would’ve laughed in their face. Might have even flushed pink when they detailed your outfit. The fact you were dressed like a bunny, or perhaps the Kappa Deta Pi’s version of a bunny that mostly resembled Regina George’s costume rendition at Halloween.

And you were just about as skittish as an actual bunny as the fluffy white pom-pom attached to your ass rustled in the grass. Currently, you were crouched behind a bush, heart nearly beating out of your fucking chest as you heard the hoots and hollers of the various boys around.

You weren’t the only bunny.

There were plenty of girls hiding around campus or dashing across the trails and parking lots of Blackmore University dressed as bunnies. But every man on campus, or at least everyone trying to get into a frat was a fox. Mind you they just had orange paint stripes over their bare chests, no confection or ball of fur needed to be attached to their ass.

Which only infuriated you on account of feminism and not because you had a bad habit of looking away whenever someone was shirtless. Totally. It made keeping watch difficult. And every five seconds your eyes went blurry with the glitter Tara forced into your eyes inner corner. A thick, pure dazzling white she poked there with her finger after she lined your eyes with dark brown gel eyeliner. Then go so far as to add a pretty bright pink blush to your nose and cheeks, and spread a clear gloss to your lips.

Just that and then you were off, out of the sorority, sprinting across the Blackmore University campus, and running for your furry little life. Immediately feeling your quite exposed ass cheeks freeze in the biting fall wind.

You were just thankful you could keep your knee-high boots, as they were heeled yes, but black leather, thus very warm. They even covered the majority of your stocking-clad legs. The large bunny ears glued right into the headband snug on your head were so tight it was giving you a migraine, especially when you had to double back for them twice because you ran too fast against the early September wind.

You had two hot pink flags on each side of your hip, and no one had touched yours yet. you were free.

You wanted to say you weren’t trying hard or you never usually took these types of childish games seriously but it would be a lie. You take EVERYTHING seriously and your heart is racing so fast on account of the fact you’ve fallen into that cloying and tempting trap of pretending it was real. Like you were truly being hunted like you might die, and it wasn’t too far-fetched with the masked murderer going around NYC. But you tried not to think of that. To think of anything else as you finally saw him.

Chad.

He was nearly gasping as he slowed from his dead sprint, his tanned and built chest rising and falling harshly. The tilted orange stripes were dull when you first saw them on his brown skin, but now they proved stunning in the moonlight. You allowed one glance, a second to note the soft light casting deep shadows across his muscled abdomen, leading your eyes to his sharp v-line dipping past the hem of his dark blue jeans. The sight was past your eye line but not your mind. And sweat was running in perfect droplets down his chest, the veins in his hands prominent as he clenched them, as his eyes darted from tree to bush to tree and bush. Looking for you.

Your heart pounded harder as he stopped dead still, right in front of your bush. A good twenty feet away. But he made you. Thinking of options you noted you could run, but something told you it wouldn’t do you much good.

But if there was one thing that you loved more than escapism through these types of games, it was fucking winning these types of things. So with your hands sliding down your hips, you checked to see if your flags were still there. And with a soft touch, you picked up a rock and chucked it into the bush across from you and watched as his head swerved towards it. As soon as his attention left you, and you no longer felt that hot iron brand to the side of your face, you dashed.

Some might say running in heels was difficult, especially in the platforms you were in that almost made you taller than Chad. They are correct, as you find it is indeed difficult. Especially on grass.

In a mere second, you hear this man catch up to you, your tired heart jumping at the thundering footsteps quickly echoing yours. With one of his strides, being three of yours, truly damning your advantage of being a past track star.

And when thickly muscled arms wrapped around your waist and pull you up like it’s nothing, you scream. Even though you know it’s Chad. Because he wears the same cologne and you saw him spot you. But mostly because he picks you up like it’s nothing always, no matter how many times you say you’re ‘too heavy’ for him to do so. It was the way he was gentle and firm, not yanking you into the air. Instead, it felt like he was helping you there almost.

But the fact his warm sweaty arms were around your bustier-clad middle had your pulse racing as fast as a rabbit's run.

“Gotcha'” he purred near your ear, laughing as he heard you squeak.

“Chad, put me down!” you lament, voice tired, obviously disappointed too. You had been so fucking close to winning. Hadn't seen another bunny in hours. But you just heard him hum out a 'no'.

His hand is now on the back of your plush thighs, your tits pressed firmly against one side of his back, painfully smothered against the strapless push-up set, the underwire digging into your sensitive flesh.

“Chad my boobs will fall out!” you squealed, face beet red, fists pounding sadly at his spine. To no avail. He didn’t even so much as flinch and you knew it was because you never actually hit him hard, you couldn’t even imagine it.

“Sounds like a good time for me. Wanna switch sides so I get a good view?” he asked, voice deep and teasing. But the smug drawl was cut off as the lip of your boot slammed into his bare ribs. And you were laughing into the starry night sky as he huffed out a harsh breath, gripping your thighs higher, almost fully folding over.

“Can’t hurt a man for trying, or I would’ve said that eventually if you didn’t quickly prove that you would indeed hurt a man for trying.” He rasped, voice fake pained. Back in the teasing sing-song tone that made your eye twitch.

Then he ripped the flags off your hips, pausing for a second as if to soothe the area there, hand firm and warm against your cold rear, your face flushing at the soft caress. And you just gave up. Honestly, truly, gave up, as he carried you across the vast freshly cut fields and through twisting trails, hell half the quad as other partygoers watched and laughed at the sight. But it wasn’t mean-spirited like you expected, it was almost camaraderie, but you still felt a bit like a child in time out. Helped by your huffing as you rubbed at the glitter in your eyes, sick of the burning it caused you. Hating the pain in your spine from the slumped-over posture. But as Chad reached his dorm and dashed up the stairs, to the very obvious approval of his frat mates, if their whoops and smirks were any consolation, you stopped whining about it.

Just taking the bouncing of your tits and head against his back in stride. Soft and feverish cheek smushed to his shoulder blade, just focusing on the ground beneath you, tracing the tattoos you could reach on his back. It’s almost an unconscious action if you could ever touch him and not be fully aware of it. But you couldn’t.

You had been in love with him for years, and although he was an affectionate person, his touch never ceased to give you jitters. No matter how many years passed, it had been thirteen. It never failed to make your stomach flip so quickly and suddenly you’d think you were on a rollercoaster that just dropped 3 stories in height.

“So, are you planning on skinning and eating me?” You muse, one hand propping up your cheek, elbow purposefully digging into his muscled shoulder hard. He laughed a beautiful sound that had your cold thighs squeezing together.

“If that means I get to see you naked, then yeah.”

“Chad!” You yell, going to kick out at him again before he flipped you back over to his chest, cradling you like one might a bride, your boobs pressed harshly against the side of his chest, nearly spilling out of the small cups.

“Okay, so you caught me..” you roll your eyes hard, trying to play along, knowing he wouldn’t drop it without your playing it up. “Whatever will you do with me now, Mr. Fox?”

He snorted, hoisting your ass under one arm and fiddling with his dorm keys in the other, his own heart skipping at your gasp at the action, your soft and perfect arms thrown casually around his neck in a vice grip.

“I understand why they took away your barking privileges when you played Nana in Peter Pan that one year. Your acting sucks.” he laughs, smiling down at your scowling self, trying desperately to take you seriously with the soft white bunny ears on your head. But it was difficult, what with them being all fluffy and big, with a hot pink center, the right one folded over slightly for optimal effect.

“Whatever. I wanna go home and shower, Chad. Been running from sweaty dudes all night.” Your eyes fall to the carpeted floor, now actually glad he was carrying you, not wanting to get your nice leather boots sticky with whatever marred the boy's dorm carpet. You could only imagine. And instead of taking the bait to tease you, flirty personality stroked, he went quiet.

“You are home,” he said, voice soft, no ounce of teasing there and your gaze shot to him. And you felt yourself swallow hard, blinking back tears you would have sworn came from the glitter.

“Is this your not-so-subtle way of asking me to stay over?” You tease, heart, pounding a mile a minute, feeling sweat trickle down your neck, sticking your hair to your shoulders as you tilted your head up at him, curious and waiting. Soft and sure, gentle. No judgment there. From the warmth in his eyes, he knew that.

“Yes. And figured I earned it since I caught you. Plus you’ve been working too hard lately. You need rest.”

The tears fall now as his words swallow you whole, making that tension building for weeks, bunched in your shoulders subside. You could only sniffle and nod, understanding the truth in his words. The reality. You had been running yourself into the ground with club applications, sorority pledges and rush, all of it too much.

“You’re right. Just this once,” you nodded slowly and sincerely, “I’m surprised too.”

Chad rolled his eyes so hard that you laughed through your tears. “Okay. Am I sharing your bed, or camping out on the floor? Or is your roomie home, the cute one?”

He scoffed, hand pressed to his bare striped chest in mock offence. “I am the cute one, not Ethan Landry.” he bit, pushing open the door and stepping inside over the frame with you still in his arms. It felt a little like you had just been married, but you dashed that thought down before it could truly take hold.

“Sure. whatever you wanna believe..” you coo, eyes narrowed in mockery.

He just shook his head, glancing up at the clock on the far wall. “He’ll be gone 'till two am. Can get out a movie, shower and get to bed before then, huh?”

Nodding, you flushed deeply as he handed you a basket he kept on his desk. Eyes widened as you took in its contents. It had your glasses container (your spare), contacts, tampons, pads, Burt’s Bees chapstick (wild cherry) and your favourite makeup wipes. You smiled wide at him.

“This is giving relationship.. like you really like your bestie.”

He shook his head quickly, cheeks heating under your teasing tone. “No.”

“Ehhh I don’t know, this is giving no commitment issues actually. it’s giving I want you in my dorm and life so much, I made a special box of your stuff for you.”

“It’s giving all that?” he mocked, glancing at the tiny basket cradled in your lap, but you just nodded firmly, lips pursed in surety.

“We’ll then maybe it’s accurate…” he whispered, breath soft.

And you felt like you had been punched, mouth agape in shock for a mere moment before you pulled it together as your head spun. “Then let me shower before this glitter makes me fully blind.” You groan, throwing in the last bit because you know he’d give his ever so clever and original ‘you’re already kinda blind’ without it.

And you hate that you loved him for it. Hate that you loved him period. Hate that you wanted him so much it ached, that it made tears spring to your eyes when you thought of it at home in your dorm.

Knowing that after your shower in his bathroom, you would steal his shirt and boxers and crawl into his twin-size bed, the laptop screen lighting up the room as he pulled you in closer by the waist, his face half in the bend of your neck and half watching the screen. Bare chest pressed against his oversized shirt he lent you. It made you so excited you might actually scream. But you knew from the many past experiences so similar to this one, that it was hard to fall asleep like that. When you were surrounded in sheets that smelled like him, generally surrounded by him, with his bare arms around you. In those moments it was hard to deny you wanted him. And you needed to because he was your best friend.

Nothing more.

#chad meeks martin #chad Meeks Martin fic #Chad Meeks-Martin fanfiction #scream chad #scream chad meeks-martin #chad meeks-martin x fem!reader #scream 5 fic #scream 6 fic

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im-probably-crying-rn-ngl · 10 months ago

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my wips

i wanted to organise and share my wips and i am actually sorry to whomever has ever tagged me in a tag game, i actually just don't know how to do them✨ if anyone is curious about any of these please do drop me an ask because i do love the sound of my own voice/sight of my own words and will provide detail 😌

okay so we have britcedes (rip to them ig) to start off, rn trying to figure out how the actual fuck i will write lewis' move to ferrari into them:

End Game: okay so a/b/o au where lewis is coparenting his son with his ex (teammate and boyfriend, buy 1 get 1 free) nico rosberg. lewis might have a lot on his plate but he finds himself attracted to his new teammate (he has a bit of a type) and against his better judgement they start up a "thing". what lewis doesn't realise george is absolutely head over heels in love with him and has been for YEARS. but george tries to play it cool, he fails, shit happens, gax happens (yes okay i don't want to fumble with this, max is incredibly complex in this but i still love him in it) but yes they get their end game of course.

Chasing Silver: set in canon universe, starting from the 2021 season. honestly like yeah that's it. i think this fic is just an excuse to ramble about their racing and ever shifting dynamics.

My Girl: OH THIS FIC. its absolutely one of my favourites if not the favourite. so lesbian britcedes, lady louise hamilton is the first black and female driver to make it to f1 and she is the champion of the sport. its 2022, she has won 7 wdcs and is looking for one more but it is just not clicking, neither is her personal life really. love left her a long time ago, walked away on 6 inch red stilettos. but enter george russell (yes her name is george and no it is NOT short for georgia and yes she will correct you on that every single time) louise's new teammate alex albon's race engineer. all george ever wanted was everything and being louise's girl might just give it to her or maybe it will be what takes it it all?

then there is gax my beloveds, i adore writing them, gax nation will always have my loyalty, i really want them to give me more this season:

Lovely: this is a/b/o, childhood sweethearts, non-driver george, son of toto wolff au i have shared snippets of before. writing this fic feels never ending and i am slowly losing my mind haha but its still! my! baby! and! i! won't! abandon! it!

Mad Max's Princess: this is pure self indulgent fluff. girl george who is once again is casted as alex albon's race engineer in this fic. her (mostly) loving boyfriend of 10 years is none other than rival team red bull racing's star and the reigning world champion. the guy they have to beat to get her driver and team to the top. oh when the love of your life is your biggest fan and your biggest hater. this is gax, of course hijinks ensue.

Fire & Blood: medieval fantasy/game of thrones (a song of ice and fire for the ones who know) au with a/b/o dynamics. mercedes are the rulers of the land and their dragons' fire melted the gold in their crowns and the moulded their iron throne. but a dragon can die and a dragon can be killed. a dragon can be shot from the sky and brought down to earth or a dragon can be trapped in a dungeon till it can fly no more. a dragon's neck can be pierced by a lion's teeth.

galex because okay who am i to argue against true love and george's russell's wishes:

Hell is a Teenager: this is a pretty dark fic where i actually do some social commentary on the a/b/o universe. so george and alex are neighbours and the best of friends who are just on the edge of more. at 14 george presents as an omega and is shipped off to an all-omega private boarding school. alex doesn't hear from him till their final year of high school and all of a sudden george is back in town. he is not the same boy that cried in alex's arms the night before he left begging for him to love him. george has changed even if no one else can tell, what happened in there? why is he back? why does alex's heart still give a stutter when he looks into those blue eyes? even if those eyes no longer sparkle. *sigh* yeah this is a toughie

lastly there is my landoscar wip, they write themselves into ffs not us:

The Only Exception: another a/b/o au (one hit wonder i know), basically its the good boy/play boy trope. lando can't get his shit together and oscar is too oblivious for his own good. it would be angst if they weren't so incredibly adorable and down bad for each other.

#sharu rambles

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archerlullaby · 1 year ago

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HELLO FRENS I AM BACK WITH juuuust a wee bit of TIME CONTENT. I love this man. So. Much. SO…I decided I would indulge myself with a bit of angsty hurt/comfort with the resident hero dad who is just worried about his sons, particularly the one who turns into a wolf ( or rather, the son is worried about his dad). @cricketflour ‘s angsty Time and Twilight piece was the brainworm for this one, so go check them out! Anyways……. HERE YA HAVE IT, FOLKS!

Fade Away

Time doesn’t remember his armor being this heavy. Sure, it can be a hassle at times, but it’s never heavy. His eye flutters open and, to his surprise, is met with…dark. Pitch. Black. Dark. And if there’s one thing the Hero of Time hates, it’s darkness.

Time tries heave in a breath, but is left gasping when the weight of his armor does not give way. No, no! Something’s wrong! He thinks. Panicking, he begins to glance around, straining his good eye, trying to see something, anything! His breaths begin to wheeze and he stops, forcing himself to calm down and take account of his situation. Last thing he remembers was…exploring some type of ruins in Wild’s Hyrule? Yes, that was it. He had seen something in one of the passageways and the next thing he knew the floor opened beneath him and…nothing. Time sighs. He loves the kid, but he hates his Hyrule.

He shakes himself out of those thoughts and continues to take note of his predicament. His internal clock tells him its exactly 9:39 at night, approximately two hours before what he last remembered. He grimaces. That’s a long time to be out. Taking into account his physical state, his face is pressed against something soft and cool, earthy smelling. Dirt. He notes that he has a slight headache. Maybe hit his head on the way down? Further along his body, he takes note of his left hand pressed under his chest and his right is pressed palm down against what feels like rock, cool and damp against his fingertips. His legs? There, but numb and tingly. Pins and needles are shooting from his lower back to his legs and he begins to panic once again, breaths coming in tight, labored gasps. A dawning horror begins to root itself in his fuzzy thoughts, and it brings him back to one, simple notion: My armor is never this heavy! The dread settles like a pit in his stomach. As he tries to lurch himself upwards, his fears are confirmed with the crushing weight of something heavy his back. Wait, what had happened to the rest of the boys? Are they okay? What if they’re trapped like he is, or worse? He gasps, trying to wiggle out from under the weight, fingers scrabbling at the dirt floor of his prison.

“Goddesses!” He curses, “I fought the fucking moon, and here I am getting beat by a rock!” Determination grits his teeth and furrows his brow as he tries to force his right hand free. I’m not giving up, not like this! He wiggles a few more times until a shower of dirt and pebbles dusts his hair. He ceases his struggling, fearing what would happen if he were to continue. He takes a few breaths as deep as he could, closing his eye against the encompassing darkness. As he calmed himself, he begins to notice a sound, that of running water off to his left. A…cave? Wild spoke about how, when the-what was it called? Time huffs. Doesn’t matter. When those floating islands nearly fell out of the sky, Wild had explained how caves opened up around his Hyrule. This must be one of them. When he fell, he must have brought part of the ceiling with him. Just his luck.

“Well, at least my head isn’t under there,” he laughed to himself darkly, “Would have been one hell of a headache!” And it can’t be too heavy, he thinks. I can still breathe a little bit. His mind races, trying to figure out his next move, when the sound of water is broken by the sound of something else shuffling in the darkness. Time does his best to quiet his breath, unsure of what could be lurking in the caves.

“Hnngh, fuck that hurt.”

Time’s eye widens in the darkness, trying desperately to see where that familiar, twangy voice came from.

“Twilight?” He hisses, turning his head desperately towards the noise. “Twi? Twi, talk to me. Are you alright?” A groan echos through the darkness.

“Dandy,” The other hero replies. Time could cry in relief. He hears more shuffling, then footsteps as Twilight gets to his feet. “Where ya at, Old Man?”

“Here! Under-” he pauses to take a couple of fast breaths, the weight seemingly heavier by the minute, “Under here!”

The footsteps draw closer, until they are nearly at his face.

“Shit…Time…” Twilight pauses. “I’m going to try and get you out from under there, just hang tight.” Time breaths a short sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” he replies hoarsely. Though he wouldn’t admit it, the knowledge of not being alone down in this place is enough to put a lump of emotion in his throat. He felt a prickly and uncomfortably warm wave wash over him, the unique feeling of Twilight’s dark magic working in close proximity, but it was quickly replaced with a cold snout pressing at his cheek. Time feels himself calm a considerable amount at the feeling.

“I think I’m laying mostly on dirt, though rock begins at about my waist. You think you can dig me out?” Twilight huffs as if to show how offended he is at being asked such a simple question. Regardless, he begins to carefully dig around Time, doing his best not to shift too much earth for fear of the stone above shifting. Luck was on their side, for once, as Twilight continues and the rock showed no sign of falling further. Finally, Time is able to start to move his arms enough to wiggle himself a little forward, enough that he could breathe again. He feels like a drowning man breaking the surface of the water, the damp, stale air soothing his lungs as he gasps. Twilight shifts back.

“I think I can pull you out if you give me your arms,” he says, placing a hand upon Time’s left arm. Time could cry in relief.

“Yes, here,” he wriggles his right arm out from his side and grasps Twilight’s forearm.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

With a grunt, Twilight heaves Time out from under the stone slab, dragging him a few paces away before setting his arms gently back on the ground. Time groans, rolling onto his back as he hears Twilight sit down heavily next to him. He grits his teeth as the pins and needles feeling in his legs increase to a burn as feeling starts to trickle back. He sighs, a wave of relief washing over him. The Rancher is the first to speak.

“Din’s tits, I hate the dark.”

Time laughs.

“It runs in the family,” he replies, reaching out in the darkness to search for his protege. He finds his leg and pats it appreciatively. “Thanks, kid.”

Twilight huffs again.

“You’re really working hard to turn into Shade, y’know that?”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Listen, I’ve lost my lamp, and I couldn’t find your bag of trinkets, so I’m going to stay as wolf until we get some light in here. Maybe I will be able to keep us from walking off a cliff or something.” Before Time could respond, A rush of magic encompasses the air, and then smell of wet dog invades his senses. He sighs.

“Listen, Twi, that’s not a good way to deal with your feelings.”

Wolfie growls and snaps his teeth in contempt. After a moment, he feels the wolf nudging his arm, trying to get him up. Time sits up, pressing a palm to his temple to try and ease the persistent drumming that has begun to make itself known. Wolfie nudges him again, nipping lightly at his elbow.

“Take it easy, I’m doing my best here.” The burning in his legs has all but disappeared, yet they remain weak and shaky as he tries to hoist himself up from a sit. Wolfie wiggles his way under Time’s hand and he uses the extra support to get steady on his feet. Keeping his hand gripped tightly in the thick fur, Time begins to shuffle along next to Wolfie, the two of them making their way step by step in the darkness.

Time wished he could say he lost track of, well, time, but he counts exactly twelve minutes before they made it to the source of the water, and since then had been following it down stream for fifty-four minutes and seven seconds. And, for those sixty-six minutes and seven seconds, his head had become increasingly more painful and his limbs had become increasingly more heavy-feeling. It was after another five minutes or so that Time realized he could begin to make out the shapes of the rocks at his feet and the glimmer of the cold water running to his left.

“Twi…the light,” Time mutters, the mere movement of his jaw aggravating his headache. As the two turn the corner, a cluster of glowing stones light up the tunnel in front of them. Time nearly laughs, feeling awash in the relief of seeing the soft blue glow the odd-looking stone cluster emits. The stones are dotted down the way, providing a dim, cold light to the dark stone. He lets go of Wolfie’s fur and slides down the side of the tunnel to sit tiredly against it. Wolfie approaches Time with a sniff, and dissolves into a cloud of darkness, leaving Twilight kneeling before him.

“Time, I could smell blood as Wolfie, but you didn’t tell me it was this bad,” Twilight says. Time almost teases him about being the one to speak when he literally almost died a few months ago, but the look in Twilight’s eyes gives him pause.

“I don’t know what the damage looks like. This place isn’t exactly littered with mirrors,” Time chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. Twilight doesn’t react and only looks at him worriedly. Time sighs. “C’mon, Rancher, you’re making me nervous, looking at me like that.” Twilight shakes his head.

“We need to get out of here. I’m sure this river opens up somewhere.” Twilight grabs Time’s arm and hoists it over his shoulder, lugging Time up in the process.

“Easy! You don’t have to treat me like one of your farm goats, Twi!”

“Then get your feet under you, Old Man. I have no qualms about throwing you over my shoulders,” he shoots back, the hint of a laugh dancing on the edge of his voice.

The two trudge on, step after step, minute after minute. The rushing water seems to bleed into the dim light, swirling together in a dizzying sort of dance that made Time’s head spin. He focuses on breathing and forcing out the thought of what feels like a hot iron band around his skull. At some point, Time startles when he realizes he can’t recall exactly how long they’ve been traveling. Oh. Oh no. He feels his feet catch on a ledge of rock, and he almost brings the both of them tumbling to the ground.

“Time!” Twilight exclaims, righting them as quickly as he could. Time groans.

“Quiet, Rancher. Gotta headache,” he mumbles, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. He feels Twilight heave him closer, wrapping his free arm around Time’s waist and nearly carrying his weight. Time feels bad. “S’too heavy. Don’t gotta d’it f’me.” Twilight only holds him tighter.

Goddesses above, he was tired. When did he get so tired? Were they moving again? What’s that noise? Crickets? They’re too loud. Time squints his eye open and shuts it immediately, the light of the full moon sending a searing pain into his head.

“Damned moon,” He mutters. He couldn’t feel his legs again. Who was touching him? He struggles away from the iron grip encompassing his waist. “No…leave go me…” Ohhh, he feels nauseous. So very nauseous. He lurches to the side and empties his stomach. What’s that noise? A voice? It’s too loud. It’s all too loud, and he’s tired, and his head hurts, and if this person could STOP FUCKING TALKING-

“Time, Time please, you need to stay awake. I…I don’t have a red potion, or a fairy, or anything! Just hold on a while longer. Please…I can’t lose you like this Old Man, not like this,” the voice says, and Time can hear a certain anguish behind it that makes him sad, though he can’t begin to figure out why. He is no longer on the ground, his feet dangling in the air and a warmth at his chest. His chin rests on something inexplicably soft.

“Whaa…”

He can hear a steady thumping that jolts in cadence with his head. Malon must be working on the new cucco coop she said she’d build, though Time can’t figure out for the life of him why she’s up this early.

“Malon, cantcha wait ‘till later to build that thing?”

A quiet sob reaches his ears. Oh no, no, no. That won’t do.

“Mal, s’kay, I’ll help ya! Don’t cry, please don’t cry!” Time lurches forward, dry heaving, as there’s nothing left in his stomach. His world spins, and all goes quiet.

He wasn’t sure where he was. He wasn’t moving. He couldn’t move. There was a cold touch at his cheek. A hand, wiping at something on his face. He then hears it, a shuddering breath. Opening his eyes, a blurred figure moves right in front of his face. Blinking a couple times, the figure comes into somewhat of a focus.

“Twi?”

The boy’s hands were shaking. He could feel them tremble on his cheek.

“Time, dad, please. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never seen it this bad. You seemed alright before, what’s going on?”

“Twi…I don’t…I don’t know,” he manages to make out.

“Your head, you had to have gotten hit on the head, but I’ve never seen someone act this bad before!”

Time uses what’s little left of his strength to reach out, touching Twilight’s face. His hand comes back wet.

“M’sorry, don’t mean to make you cry, Rancher,” he whisper. Twilight catches his hand as it drops.

“You’re gonna be okay Time. By Hylia, I will make sure you are okay.”

The next time he wakes up, his head doesn’t hurt nearly as bad, though it is still quite painful. His chest hurts like a Goron is sitting on it. He groans and lifts his hand to unbuckle the straps of his armor, but is surprised to merely find the soft cloth of his tunic instead.

“What? Who? My armor?” He mumbles. A hand grasping his, a eucalyptus cool washes over his body. Magic.

“Time? Time, can you hear me?”

“Rulie?” He whispers. Voices blend into the background, mixing with the jumping light dancing behind the eyelid of his good eye. The hand settles itself on his forehead, sending a wave of relief through his body as the pain behind his forehead eases to a dull ache, similar to the ones he gets after a long fight.

“I’m here. You’re going to be alright.” Hyrule’s voice is soft, softer than it usually is, and sounds strained, like someone exhausted. Time finally manages to force his eyes open, meeting Hyrule’s soft, honey-colored ones.

“Rulie.”

Hyrule smiles gently but doesn’t speak, one hand on Time’s head and the other on his chest. There are deep purple circles under the healer’s eyes, and his brow is drawn taut and focused. Another figure moves in Time’s peripheral.

“Twilight,” Time whispers as he comes into focus. His eyes are red and puffy. “What happened?”

Twilight coughs and gathers himself, his facial expression back to his normal neutral look.

“You nearly died. I managed to drag your heavy ass back to camp after getting out of that cave. By the time we made it here you were shaking uncontrollably. Sky had a red potion on him, thank the goddess, and Wild had a fairy. Hyrule did the rest of the work.”

“Oh, Twi…” Time trails off, the pain in Twilight’s eyes adamant. Hyrule interrupts.

“Your brain was swelling. It happens when you get hit on the head too hard. You’ll be fine within a day or so. I will heal what I can,” Hyrule explains, standing from his position at Time’s side. “But for the meantime, you should get some rest. It’s safe to do that now.” Hyrule nods at Twilight and leaves the two alone. Twilight’s gaze is heavy, and Time almost wishes he were back under that stone slab.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that—”

Twilight lurches forward, grabbing onto Time like a lifeline, burying his face in Time’s neck. Though Twilight did not make a single noise, Time could feel tears drip onto his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare ever do something so stupid like goin’ off by yourself like that again, Old Man. Ya hear me?”

Time nods, encompassing Twilight with a hug.

“I promise, I’ll be more careful. But why did you follow me?”

Twilight huffs.

“I saw ya, goin’ down that passageway by yourself, and I had a bad feeling. Before I could call out to you, the floor gave way and we both tumbled down. You were the unlucky one,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Once I got you back to camp, the others said they saw us fall. Your bag of stuff got caught on an outcropping you bounced off of, and you had the right mind to throw your sword away so you wouldn’t fall on it. Wild climbed down and grabbed both of them.”

Time sighed, thankful for Wild’s boldness when it comes to steep cliffs and endless drops. He turned to meet Twilight’s eyes.

“Are you alright, cub?”

Twilight opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then seems to think better of it and nod his head.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m okay now that you’re okay,” he replies hoarsely. Time decides not to press. Instead, he pulls Twilight down into a bear hug.

“I love you, son,” he whispers. Twilight falls into the hug with a sniffle that’s barely audible.

“Love ya too, dad.”

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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 6 months ago

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FNAF Theory: Cassie's Father Was Springlocked And Became Burntrap...

[Note: Reading This Theory Is Optional, also spoilers will be mentioned from the FNAF Movie. but will talk about the theory about Cassie's Father. this will be for Mature Audience Readers Only. also do NOT reblog this without permission.]

it is possible that Cassie's Dad never came home after leaving her a note, which could possibly be that note we find when we are wearing that Security Mask that looks like Vanny.

Cassie's Father is likely The Bully that had on The Bonnie Mask, and were friends with Michael Afton/Bully Who Wears The Foxy Mask.

the friends of Michael Afton, likely tried to change and no longer be like what they were when the accident happen at Fredbear's Diner.

it could be possible that each of Michael's friends, ended up losing their lives while working at The Mega Pizzaplex or half of them did so when working at The Old Pizzeria.

if the other former bullies also had children, besides Cassie's Father & Gregory's Father...

then the other children who could be friends with Cassie, but didn't go to her party because their parents stop them because of the disappearances that were happening...

the bully that wears the Freddy Mask, could of been the elder brother of Charlie Emily.

each of the bullies that were involved in the bite of 83, and got jobs at the Mega Pizzaplex maybe as early as 202X.

each of them could of had their remnant and memories placed into Glamrock Foxy, Bonnie, Chica and Freddy.

I still can't seem to get to the place where Glamrock Bonnie is suppose to be in the Ruin DLC, it seems to be difficult at the moment, but at least I was able to get the Scooper Ending in my first time beating that FNAF-SB's Ruin DLC.

for all we know, the Glamrock Bonnie that looks destroyed, could be a Prototype, and it lets The Real Glamrock Bonnie along with Foxy, to fake their "deaths" so they can move around the Pizzaplex and turn off the cameras so they wont be found out.

even if Cassie's Father had been Springlocked when ending up in the old Spring Bonnie's suit, his remnant and memories possibly went into the Glamrock Bonnie, who was his favorite.

half of him was still trapped in the Spring Bonnie suit, while the other half was trapped in Glamrock Bonnie.

the room that we find in the mini-game, where the Purple-Guy is cornered by the ghost children, and ends up trying to hide in a Spring Bonnie suit....it is possible that that was NEVER William Afton, that it may have been Cassie's Father who was trying to help free the ghosts of those children, only for them to mistake him for someone else.

the three machines in that room, were likely The Princess Quests 1, 2 & 3.

William Afton could of still ended up being springlocked, but it was in a different location.

there could be different types of dark secrets yet to be revealed about the FNAF Timeline.

that blonde ghost boy from the FNAF Movie, is suspicious.

he is likely a bit more powerful than the other ghost children, and he likely went to get the man who was known as "William Afton".

I can't help but find that ghost boy very suspicious, and he isn't as innocent as he appears to be. in theory, it was him that may have talked the other ghost children into trying to make Abby into one of them.

because of the strong influence that the ghost boy who controls Golden Freddy has on the other ghost children, he is able to corrupt them and make them agree without questioning what they are doing is wrong.

if the FNAF Movie's Timeline also took place in the same world as FNAF-SB's Timeline, then the animatronics that are seen in the FNAF Movie could be moved to the Pizzaplex after it is fully rebuild and fixed.

they could end up being kept in a different part of the pizzaplex, like a storage location until they can be moved to a more permanent location for them.

Vanessa Shelly and Vanessa A. could be two different people, and for all we know, it could of been Vanessa Shelly who was Vanny this whole time.

the story that was being told by the Candy-Cadet, is possibly about Gregory and Vanessa, and the monster could be the mimic...

the mimic might of not of been the first one to lure Cassie to the Pizzaplex, and it might of been Gregory the whole time.

when Cassie was wearing the mask, some of her memories were likely being projected, both her best and worst moments.

one of the best memories was her bonding with Roxy,

and one of her worst moments was when no one came to her birthday party, and while it might seem Gregory was part of the best memories that comfort her, but there could be more to meets the eye to it and he may have been the reason why her friends didn't show up in the first place.

even if we do try to do a Pacifist Route in FNAF-SB, where Gregory doesn't harm the other Glamrocks and take their upgrades and give them to Freddy...

the true timeline that leads to the Ruin's Future events, will always be where Gregory took their upgrades and gave them to Freddy.

so no matter if we choose to not take the other Glamrocks own upgrades or if we do take them anyway, in Ruin DLC the outcome will always be with Gregory taking their upgrades.

the mini-games could be stories that are being told through Arcade games that are in the Pizzaplex, and the stories could be memories from the remnant taking from their original sources.

which would mean that the mini-game that shows the Crying Child, are made up of memories of the remnant that came from the Crying Child.

remnant could hold copies of the memories of the original person that it came from, the soul that owns that remnant will either be together or separate in the same or different vessel.

Cassie's Father who was likely the Bonnie Masked Bully in his Youth, his Soul may have became trapped in the Spring Bonnie Suit, while his remnant that had a copy of his memories ended up becoming a part of Glamrock Bonnie.

we could think of parts of Cassie's Father was cleaved into different places, one of them being with the original body that would become Burntrap, the other became a part of Glamrock Bonnie.

and another would end up becoming Mxes with no memories of who he originally was but only that he needed to keep Cassie from freeing the Mimic, he could have no memories of Cassie so he might not feel anything when placing Cassie in some form of danger when calling either Chica or Monty or Roxy to where she is.

but if the Mxes did have some part of the remnant that came from Cassie's Father, then it might take time for some of those memories and emotions to appear in Mxes if it ends up being brought back.

Cassie's Father likely found out about what happen to the Missing Children and the Missing Therapist, and tried to free them.

the ones he wanted to start with freeing was the children, but something went wrong when they tried to do this and it ended up causing him to try to hide in a Spring Bonnie suit and he would end up becoming trapped and not going back home to Cassie.

Glamrock Bonnie could have the Remnant of Love, Burntrap could have the Remnant of Determination or Perseverance and Mxes may have some of the Remnant that make up Justice.

if this theory proves to be true, and Cassie found out, the truth might end up hurting her and even finding out that Gregory knew what happen to her father and never told her.

we only know very little about Cassie's Father, we know that he worked at the Pizzaplex and he had a Faz-Wrench.

and the possibility that he and the Bonnie Mask Bully are one in the same person.

some fans have already theorized this, possibly from Cassie talking about how Bonnie was her Father's Favorite.

for all we know, there was always going to be some plot twists that had to do with some hidden secrets that would be later revealed as the story of the FNAF Game progressed.

Gregory could turn out to be the son of the Freddy Mask Bully, who might of not been a very good person and may have a dark secret about them, seeing as their mas was the only one that didn't show those white pupils like the Bullies who wear the Foxy, Chica and Bonnie Masks.

the one who might be deeper linked to what happens around the Pizzaplex and even at the other locations, might be Gregory's Possible Father who was The Freddy Mask Bully.

Gregory might be working with The Freddy Mask Bully, who's true name is unknown but for all we know, he could be a Emily or Afton.

it could be possible that the Foxy Bully and The Crying Child, may be a Afton but they could also be a Schmidt.

the Foxy Mask Bully could be Mike Schmidt, while the Freddy Mask Bully could be Michael Afton or Michael Emily.

both William Afton and Henry Emily, could of both named their sons Michael, and only one of them ends up going by the nicknames Mike and Mikey.

and the Michael that may have been working at the Sister Location, could of been Michael Emily and the one he was speaking to may have been Henry Emily, his Father...but then again that theory may end up being debunked and that's okay.

but Gregory could of been involved in Cassie's Father going missing and him ending up becoming a victim of the Sprinlocks.

we know there are some secrets about Gregory that might end up being revealed one piece at a time, just not fully all at once.

and for all we know, the theory about him being the son of the Freddy Mask Bully could be correct.

even if it might seem that the Mask-Bot might have the spirit of Cassie's Father, but it could be someone else who could of been close to Cassie's Father.

I might not have much to go by other than the stuff I already mentioned about the theory that Cassie's Father may be the Burntrap in the FNAF-SB's Games own Timeline, and parts of himself ended up separated, like both his Soul and Remnant may have stayed in the Burntrap, while other parts ended up becoming a part of Glamrock Bonnie and Mxes.

Gregory's Father "The Freddy Mask Bully" could of had his Soul and Remnant either end up in the Prototype Glamrock Freddy or the Real Glamrock Freddy.

Gregory might not be as innocent as he appears to be, even if we could keep him from doing any harm to Roxy, Chica and Monty but the True Timeline will always be where he ends up doing harm to them, no matter if we allow it to happen or not at the starting events that take place before Ruin.

for all we know, it might of not been Mxes that was calling Monty, Chica and Roxy to where Cassie was, and it may have been Gregory the whole time.

and Gregory could of been lying to Cassie and he was the one who was controlling the other Glamrocks and making them chase after her.

if we were able to give all the Glamrocks their upgraded parts back, like not just Chica's beak and voice-box...

but also Roxy's Eyes and Monty's claws & legs.

then that could be a interesting concept, maybe in another part of the FNAF Security Breach's story, where Cassie helps Roxy and Monty.

Monty being so aggressive like a feral animal, could be from the control that Gregory might have on him when making him go after Cassie.

there could be more to Gregory than meets the eye, and the only way he becomes "Good" is if the Player makes sure to not have him hurt Roxy, Monty and Chica and take their upgrades to use on Freddy.

but once again no matter if we choose a Paciest Route when playing FNAF Security Breach, Gregory in the Ruin's Future events will always end up hurting Freddy's friends and taken their upgrades.

Gregory could of been the one that caused Cassie's Father to end up as Burntrap, or him having knowledge of who caused it...

possibly being Henry Emily who caused Cassie's Father to become Burntrap.

for all we know, Henry Emily might be Gregory's Grandfather and it could also mean that Charlotte Emily is Gregory's Aunt.

Cassie could of been placed in Foster Care after her Father never came home, if it was just him and her.

or she may have been with her Mother the whole time after Cassie's Father went missing.

if Cassie's Father did end up becoming Burntrap and did try to free the ghost children, if the theory ends up being true then maybe it will be revealed in the future or maybe debunked.

not everyone has to agree about the theory, that Cassie's Father while trying to free the ghost children from the animatronics from the old location under the pizzaplex but only ended up becoming Burntrap and not being able to return to Cassie.

not all theories have to be correct and with how some theories are, and how some could end up being debunked, well the original fan theories that do end up being debunked can end up working in a Fanon Timeline...

not sure what else to say about the theory about Cassie's Father being mistaken for the "Purple-Guy" and even appearing as the Purple-Guy to both the Player and The Ghost Children, but it turning out it wasn't him but a man who will possibly never see his daughter again, or even if he did it would be what he had become and not the man he once was.

I can agree that Cassie's Father may be Bonnie Mask Bully, but it's okay that not everyone agrees that I believe that Cassie's Father might be Burntrap that is seen in FNAF Security Breach.

and that Gregory may have been involved in the accident that would cause Cassie's Father to become trapped in a Spring Bonnie Suit and then transforming into Burntrap...

#mature audiences only #do not reblog without permission #fnaf theory #fnaf security breach #fnaf ruin #cassie fnaf #bonnie mask bully #glamrock bonnie #burntrap fnaf #springlock #mxes fnaf #freddy mask bully #gregory fnaf #may 2024

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